


Monsters & Mana: To Kill a Mocking Word

by Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl



Series: Afternoon Tea with Prince Lotor [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate S6 reality, Alternate reality Lotor is sweet and vanilla, Biting, Canon Lotor is kinky as fuck, Consensual Somnophilia, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Fuck you S6 canon, Inktober 2018, Jealousy, Justice for Lotor, Light Bondage, Monsters & Mana with Lotor, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Platonic Relationships, Redemption for Lotor, Romantic Comedy, Threesome - F/M/M, implied sex, monsters & mana, not implied anymore, role play, yeah you heard me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-06-12 08:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 66
Words: 48,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl/pseuds/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl
Summary: This merry band of misfits has saved the ill-fated emperor Lotor from the brink of calamity in multiple realities. Now they have a new mission: they’re going to spit in the face of heartache and make their crestfallen friend laugh until he can’t breathe. Though their unabashed friendship aids him on the path toward absolution and redemption, can he reconcile the star-crossed love he finds in this alternate reality?*New Inktober chapters are up! Can’t believe M&M is coming to an end... some of you have been with me since June for Afternoon Tea.. I’m not crying, you’re crying.*





	1. Aperture Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time.”  
> ― Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In Heaven

Block, Meklavar, and Pike have returned from a particularly tough battle with a Rock Ogre.

Coran greets them as they approach the bar. “Ah, welcome to the illustrious Starflux Cafe. Purveyor of fine foods and beverages. Rest assured we have recently completed sensitivity training and will not have you arrested for loitering without a purchase. Ah, I recognize you fine folk from the inn across the way. What can I do ya for?”

“That was a tough battle. I think I need some cake after that!” replies Pidge.

“The cake is a lie.”

“But it says on the menu that you have cake.”

“Hence the lie.”

Pidge orders a couple of drinks while pretending not to notice that Flotor smiled. It is at this moment that Lance turns to the musician playing softly on her lute.

“So what quest are you on?”

“I am but a humble bard travelling upon the winds of chance,” Nymuë replies.

Lance laughs mockingly. “A bard?! What are you going to do, snowflake? La musica the monsters to death?!”

“If you think me a mere minstrel or troubadour, continue on your way, you absolute spoon.”

“UGH, FINE... what’s your story, you twangy-stringed mook?”

“Lend me your ears and write this upon your fledgling hearts, for fae magic selects only those most worthy. I am Aeolyn, hailing from the Felociel woodlands, birthplace of the ancient magics of lore. For only a few still know the multiverse was spoken into existence. Fewer still, can wield those remnant echoes, by lucubration of the spoken and the sung. But only once in myriannum will the fae illuminate the humble mind of a bard with the entirety of their song. I am at your service. Except for you, Spoon, I do not serve cutlery.”

Flotor chuckled. 

“The name’s Pike, I’m a cool ninja assassin, for your information. Like a thief in the night, silent but deadly. Ever watching, ever waiting...” He pauses then whispers fiercely, “I’m omnifarious”

“Pardon? Did you say ostentatious?”

“Omnifarious and I’m famous too...”

“Obnoxious and infamous. Duly noted.”

Both Lotors laughed.

At that moment, Coran approaches the counter and calls out, “Cafe au lait for Ivana P. ATTENTION, IVANA P.!” There was a pregnant pause and then room erupted in laughter.

“What? What’s so funny? Here’s a no foam latte for Ima Cocksplat. HEY, EVERYBODY, IMA COCKSPLAT.”

There were more shrieks of laughter. When Lance finally regained composure, he could only manage, “Ok, Baron von Jizz.”

To which Hunk replied, “Gettin’ jizzy wit’ it.” And everybody completely lost it again. Flotor was not accustomed humour of any kind, let alone this constant stream of merciless invectives. They weren’t even out of the inn yet, and he was already wiping away tears.

“Hey, Aeolyn, will you aid us on our quests?” asks Pidge when she is able to breathe again. 

“Certainly. Yours have now become mine.”

“I’m Meklavar, Dwarf miner seeking to recover our stolen Jewel of Gitan.”

“And I’m Block, a sorcerer trying to rectify the fact that my village was turned into stone.”

A shadowy figure in the corner says, “I, too, wish to accompany your meagre band. For I am called Takashi Shirogane, of the order of the Knights of the White Lion. I was selected to be a paladin for the purity in my heart. Having learned the seven pillars of knighthood to be a shield for good and a sword against evil, I am foresworn to protect this sacred world. However, on that fateful day when my master was destroyed by a demon leviathan, was when I took upon myself this...”

Hunk interjects, “Yeah, cool story, bro.”

Pidge continues, “So, in what chapter do you shut up?”

“Hey! But you haven’t even heard my story.”

“Mmkay, Tropey McTropeface, maybe we could use a bloviating windbag. Blow some hot air on our campfires,” smirks Lance.

“Okay, Mr. Obstreperous,” laughs Pidge.

“Ha!” Lance retorts as he throws on his invisibility cloak. “I can take you all right now. Not so tough now that you can’t see me, are you?”

The new quintet depart after a short rest and continue on their journey; a rustling of leaves is heard as they turn to see a cloaked figure following them from above.

“Look,” cries Shiro, “there’s someone above us!” as he simultaneously oversteps the path and falls off a cliff. 

“Well, now there’s someone below us,” says Nymuë as she peers over the edge. There were some snickers while the Lotors laughed out loud. 

“Who the heck are you?” asks Lance.

“I am a ranger of no import. You may call me Ryder. I can remain imperceptible if I wish, but to disappear altogether, ‘tis a rare talent. You draw far too much attention to yourselves in this dark land,” says Lotor. 

Nymuë laughs as she leans into him and pulls out her lute. “Shiro needs some bardic inspiration.” She plays the introduction to Still Alive and sings the following rendition:

“I’m sorry you’re dead now.  
I’m being so sincere right now,  
While the rest of us stand here  
with all our hit points.  
Aperture Alliance  
We’ll manage without you  
‘Cuz we can  
A salute to all of us,  
Except the ones who are dead.”

The Lotors had never played Portal before but they were still laughing so hard everyone had to take a 5 min break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally do not regret adding the guitar now. We can try to give the Critical Role bard a run for his money. Operative word is try.


	2. Goddess of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All streams flow to the sea because it is lower than they are. Humility gives it its power.” - Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

“What’s this? A ranger in the inner-lands, so far removed from his preferred quarry? Do you seek to join us, Ranger?” asks Aeolyn as she looks him up and down.

“I may consider the offer. Will you personally make it worth my while?” Ryder says coquettishly as he steps closer to her. 

“I perhaps have some things that may be... of interest to you,” she says seductively.

“Do you care to disclose them now?” he says as he takes her around the waist. 

Nymuë gets up from her seat and actually moves to straddle Lotor’s lap, to the hoots and hollers of everyone. “Do you know what is better than strip chess?” she purrs, as she feels him stiffen beneath her.

Lotor hadn’t anticipated such brazen flirting as he shakes his head and feels his throat go dry.

Nymuë brings her lips close to his ear and says, “Pokémon Go.”

The paladins burst into uncontrollable laughter, as some slapped the table and others fell on the floor. For those unfamiliar with Pokémon, the irrepressible laughter still made them laugh too. Nymuë kisses Lotor’s cheek and asks Hunk to do a perception check before she returns to her seat beside him. 

“An innumerable group of hobgoblins is approaching,” says Coran. “Luckily for you, they failed their stealth roll.”

“How many is that? With Shiro down, that only leaves 5 of us,” says Lance.

“Far greater in number than you. Shouldn’t have made all that commotion, I guess,” Coran giggles. 

Nymuë says, “Kōng chéng jì,” making a swift and subtle hand gesture. The entire party promptly scatters into the trees. Flotor wasn’t sure what was happening but things were becoming interesting. Perhaps this wasn’t mere child’s play after all. Although he had initially declined from participating, he was beginning to reconsider that decision.

She sits on a branch out of reach, but in plain sight, and continues to play her lute. As the leader of the hobgoblins approaches, she rolls her bluff.

“We are many. We are legion. We are not the humanoids you are looking for.”

It worked. Her high level bluff caused the hobgoblins to re-evaluate their intestinal fortitude and turn tail. 

“What did you say to everyone?” Coran asks. “I’ve never heard that language before.” 

“It refers to the empty fort strategy, one of the thirty-six military stratagems I asked everyone to memorize. When military leader, Zhuge Liang’s soldiers were vastly outnumbered, he opened the gates to their village, and hid all his men. He then sat on an outcropping and played his guqin. His calm demeanour and empty fort led the approaching army to suspect a massive ambush and they retreated.”

“You had them study a different language as well?” asks Flotor, thoroughly impressed with her military knowledge. 

“If we were able to hack your communications systems, then it stands to reason Sendak will likely be able to intercept your messages as well. You crack the code, you win the war. I chose Mandarin, not to be a pretentious prick, but to exploit the fact that there no tonal languages used in this part of the empire. In World War Two, the Germans, our enemies, had successfully cracked most of the codes used by the allies. The one code they couldn’t decipher was used by the Navajo code talkers, who also spoke a tonal language. The grammatical structure and tonal nature of Mandarin are so drastically different than anything used out here, if history is any indication, it should be nearly impossible to unscramble. It may come in handy tomorrow. I’ve brought you a copy too,” she says as she gives him one. 

While everyone was still considering the weight of her words, Lotor already had Nymuë halfway out of the room. “We can resume our session another time. I believe Nymuë has... something of interest to show me,” he said hastily.

Alternate reality Lotor groaned internally. Second time today. This reality was too much. “Alright, I concede,” he says wearily. “How do I make one of these characters?”

Shiro says, “I have to make another one too. I’m going to be a paladin again.”


	3. Drivelnauts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If life were easy, it wouldn't be difficult.”
> 
> \- Kermit the Frog

Lotor would be leaving for several days after giving Flotor charge of the Empire. He hoped he was doing the right thing, leaving Nymuë with that son of a weaponsgrade plum. They were about to embark on a perilous mission in complete secrecy so he decided feign normalcy and agreed to play one more round of Monsters and Mana. 

“So, you know what I can’t figure out?” says Block to the entire party, “if we defeated that Dakon guy who turned my village to stone, why are they still petrified? I thought he said it would all go back to normal once we beat him.”

“I may be able to assist you on your noble quest,” says a regal voice from the shadows.

“Who are you?”

“I am Theren, son of Thamior, wizard of evocation,” responds Flotor.

“What are you doing here, Theren? I’m not coming home with you, you typhonic spacknozzle,” says Aeolyn with annoyance.

“You two know each other?” asks the mystical archer, Valayun. 

“She is my wayward sister and I have come to retrieve her.”

“Okaaayy... You said you could help us?” asks Meklavar.

“I will do so on the condition that Aeolyn returns with me once you have attained your objectives,” he says.

“Why don’t you let her decide for herself?” asks Ryder pointedly.

“It is of no concern to you, Ranger. She and I have pressing matters to attend to,” Theren replies fiendishly.

‘Son of a bitch,’ thinks Lotor.

“Now, Dakon was a powerful Warlock who had a binding contract with one the Elders, the arch enemies of the fae. It is from this Elder that he drew his power. Should you seek to abolish his reign of power, you may find more than one answer you seek.”

“So where do we start then?” asks Pike.

“Maybe we can ask some of the people in this town.” Block walks up to a merchant drinking a cup of tea and looks at their name. “Hey, uh, Fu... joshi, is it? Can you tell us anything about the Elders?”

Nymuë clasps her hand to her mouth and stifles a laugh.

“Those posers tried to give me cake but I threw it on the ground! I’m not a part of their system,” the NPC replies angrily and promptly smashes the tea cup on the ground.

“Hey what about this guy selling squashes?” says Meklavar. “What can you tell us about the Elders, Squashking?”

“My accounting business is floundering so I’m selling squash on the side, but some bald kid keeps flying in and smashing my stand.”

Mystical archer monotonously approached every person in the town and took notes on everything they said. Pike didn’t speak to a single one. Finally, the tedium of the task exceeded their quota of patience and they spoke with the innkeeper who demanded a crystal in exchange for information. 

“But we don’t have anymore crystals!”

“I have a particularly nasty problem in that armoire that scares away my customers. If you will take care of it for me, I might be willing to give you the information you need.”

“Done!” yells Pike as he throws open the door.

“Now this creature is a faceless demon and assumes the form of the fear at the forefront of your mind. You have to figure out how to defeat it,” explains Coran.

“Psst, Ryder, it’s your turn,” Pidge says as she nudges him.

“My apologies, I was just thinking of Sendak.”

“Then, that is the form Faceless will assume. From this point, I have determined his armour class, hit points, and abilities,” replies Coran.

“But that wasn’t part of the game, he just zoned out,” objects Hunk. 

“Best not to be caught off guard, then,” Coran says slyly. “I should probably mention that unlike any regular warrior class, this poltergeist slowly absorbs the hit points of any attacker that does not defeat him. Tee hee.”

Flotor affectionately looked to Nymuë to see what she would do. Instead of doing much of anything, she seemed to be lost in thought and was gazing absently into the distance. The corner of her mouth curled into a blissful smile as she continued in her reverie. He frowned when she started playing air guitar. She was a bit strange sometimes. 

Meanwhile, the attack had already begun with Shiro leading the charge. He and Meklavar would attempt melee attacks first. The first and second strikes landed successfully, but the monster’s wounds spontaneously regenerated and Shiro and Meklavar were now leaking hit points. 

“Block, Theren! Try magic attacks!”

Block turned himself into a potted plant.

“Hey, you’re supposed to attack the monster, not yourself, you nob-headed baboon.”

“It’s wild magic... I can’t always control it. Damnit Mek, I’m a healer, not a fighter.”

Theren cast a powerful inferno of hell spell that engulfed the monster in flames and left it in a charred heap. 

Even as they all cheered, the monster regenerated and began depleting both Block’s and Theren’s health. Allura tried healing her allies with her arrows as Ryder sent his eagle companion to mount a bestial fury attack, but to no avail.

“Aeolyn, Pike, we could use some help, here!”

“I just need another minute, Pike buy me some time!”

No one was entirely sure why she needed another minute but the only thing Pike could really do was lure the ghost away from the group and try to steal something from it. He managed to obtain an unknown elixir.

Aeolyn was finally ready. “Slicing words!” she cries with a roll of the die. 

As she stands up to play the rousing Muppets theme, she says comically, “It’s Haggar’s Puppet Show, starring Sendak!”

“It's time to kick the bucket,  
You pribbling parasite,  
Forgot to gird your loins now, hafta change your pants tonight

“It's time to meet your maker,  
You’ll like the taste of smite,  
We've gotta raze the vermin, on the Puppet Show tonight

“Why do you always come back  
For a mocking portmanteau?  
It’s torture just to see you,  
You hoary, hellbeast hoe

“You sycophantic suck-up,  
You’re a gigantic muck up,  
Why can’t you shut the fuck up

“You’re a braggadocio, microphallical, dangling scrotical, tiny fingerful  
Mangy, mangled, mook-bagged, fuck-faced pole!”

The entire party was in stitches, particularly the Lotors. Microphallical absolutely killed Flotor and he laughed until he was wiping tears away. The poltergeist dropped dead in that moment, causing more yelling and cheering.

“You roasted him so badly he gave up the will to live!” Pidge cried and laughed again. 

“He’s had his whole life to be an ass, he should take today off,” quips Hunk.

“You should run the Wendy’s twitter account,” says Lance.

After everyone was able to resume respiratory function, Coran said, “Well done. The attack wouldn’t have worked without making the entire party laugh. Here is information on the Elder in question, in addition to a map of his whereabouts.”

“Hey, how did you know to make us laugh?” asks Pike.

“Sounded like a boggart to me. Right, Crash Bandicoot?”

“I’m too young to know that reference, you frumpy old bag.”

“You should respect your elders.”

“You’re an old woman yelling at the clouds.”

“Age is wisdom. As the ancient proverb goes: you should always choose to be the lesser of two assholes.”

Everyone broke down laughing again and decided to go for dinner.


	4. Fraternal Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Four things do not come back: the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity.”  
> ― Ted Chiang, The Merchant and the Alchemist's Gate

It had been an eventful evening. Lance had been teaching Commander Ashok how to play drums since he had a knack for rhythm. As they waited for their dinner, the group split their vote between the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, so the trio happily played four iconic break-up songs from both bands. Flotor was staggered by the entire experience; he was riveted by the music that they had clearly chosen just for him and he was entirely smitten with Nymuë. Their last announcement was to state unequivocally that the correct answer was, in fact, The Velvet Underground, which they would be performing tomorrow. Everyone laughed and cheered.

Lotor took Nymuë aside after dinner and sadly said his good-byes. She had been taken by surprise and actually cried a little bit since she had never been separated from him since they first met. He held her with incredible affection and kissed her tenderly but he could stay no longer. It was imperative that he leave at once. He let her know she would be left in the care of his counterpart.

After his departure, Nymuë dolefully returned to her companions. She was soon taken aback by Flotor’s demeanour as he looked at her with such lecherous desire that it sent her heart racing. Anytime she caught his glance that evening, she felt him undressing her with his eyes and this was something she never experienced with her Lotor. She was a bit discomfited by him and left the party by herself. 

As she stepped out of the bath that evening, he startled her by pulling away her towel and embracing her from behind. “You called me an unsavoury epithet today, little sister. Do you know what the penalty is for denigrating the crown prince?” As he pulled her against his bare skin, she felt he was already hard with arousal. She whimpered with pleasure as he fondled her and stroked her between her legs.

“It was... just... a game,” she panted.

“Is this all a game to you?” he asks salaciously as he increases his frottage. 

“You’re making my legs weak,” she breathes as she moans louder. 

“Were you not the one who sought me every night?”

“What... no, wouldn’t... if... brother.”

“I seem to recall you always begging me for more,” he says savagely as he brings her to the brink of climax and then stops.

“No, please, don’t stop...”

He forces her to her knees and brings her head between his legs. “Pleasure me, little sister, and I may consider attenuating your punishment tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that anyone cares at this point but they played:
> 
> Day Tripper & Yesterday - The Beatles  
> Paint It Black & I Can’t Get No Satisfaction - The Rolling Stones


	5. Fraternal Fantasy X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can divide infinity an infinite number of times, and the resulting pieces will still be infinitely large,” Uresh said in his odd Lenatti accent. “But if you divide a non-infinite number an infinite number of times the resulting pieces are non-infinitely small. Since they are non-infinitely small, but there are an infinite number of them, if you add them back together, their sum is infinite. This implies any number is, in fact, infinite.”  
> “Wow,” Elodin said after a long pause. He leveled a serious finger at the Lenatti man. “Uresh. Your next assignment is to have sex. If you do not know how to do this, see me after class.”
> 
> \- Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man’s Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t read this if you are at work, underage, or illiterate.

He had never met anyone who had made him laugh as much as she did; her wit and her witticisms were exceptionally unmatched. It was a heady bliss that sheltered him from the dampness of emptiness and abandonment. As he watched her hips sway to the rhythm of the music, however, the warmth that permeated his being lit the hot embers of desire, fanning the flames of lust that would eventually consume him. The way she blushed and quickly turned away at his glances fuelled his desire for her and enticed him with the power he held over her. She was still so innocent and he was going to enjoy slowly stripping her of it. As he watched her bathe that evening, he was entranced by her soft curves and her siren song. Every inch of her was going to belong to him that night.

She squealed as he approached from behind her and pulled off her towel. Before she could say anything, he ravaged her breasts and savoured her sensual whimpers. Sliding his hand between her legs, he strokes her folds and is pleased to find her so wet already. 

“Do you want me that badly?” he whispers. “But you called me an unsavoury epithet today, little sister. Do you know what the penalty is for denigrating the crown prince?” he asks wickedly as he buries his fingers into her and draws out her wetness to massage her bud. The thought of illicit intimacy made him burn with arousal that swept his being. 

She could barely manage her staccato response. “It... was... just.... a game,” she breathed. It wasn’t just his touch that stole her breath, it was the desperation with which he wanted every part of her. 

“And is this a game to you?” he asks salaciously as he increases his frottage, drawing loud moans from her. The euphoria that pulsed through her bled the strength from her knees and she fell against him. 

“You’re ... making ...my legs weak...”

“Were you not the one who sought me every night?” he asks as he licks her ear and plunges his fingers deeper into her. 

“No...wouldn’t... if... brother,” she pants. The heat between her legs was overwhelming her as all her inhibitions now fled.

“No? You were always the one begging me to fuck you,” he says savagely as he brings her to the brink of climax and then stops.

“No, please, don’t stop...”

He forces her to her knees and brings her head between his legs. “Pleasure me, little sister, and I may consider attenuating your punishment tonight.” 

The hunger that she suddenly exudes catches him off guard, as she crawls toward him seductively, takes him in her mouth and slowly licks the length of his shaft. “There’s no rush,” she says, her voice laced with such raw desire that a wave of heat overtakes him. “We have all night, brother,” she whispers as she stands and pushes him against the vanity, delicately tracing her nails down his torso and leaving a fiery trail that quickens his pulse. He groans with pleasure as she strokes his member and he doesn’t see what spray she uses or what she now has in her other hand. 

She slowly traces wet kisses down the same path her nails took while she continues to pleasure him with her hand. “I shouldn’t like it when you touch me,” she says breathily as he brings his fingers to her parted lips. “I shouldn’t want your hard cock inside me,” she whimpers before she sucks on his fingers. “I shouldn’t want you to punish me.” He faltered, and his knees gave a little. She had ignited a raging wildfire of hot arousal that coursed through him. 

She drops to her knees and takes the head in her mouth, never breaking eye contact. What she did with her tongue sent purified pleasure rushing throughout his body. 

“Kuss prest (suck harder),” he moaned as he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her toward him. She obeyed and thrust him harder into her throat.

“Yll, de liste te... (fuck, I like that)”

He is flushed with heat as she pumps him with her hand.

“Yll za... (fuck, yes)

The numbing spray she used numbs him a bit as well, keeping him at the cusp of climax as she now takes him even harder and faster.

“Mahr te, hess... (damn it, please)”

He was starting to tremble and starting to plead.

“Hess, Nymuë, hess!”

She penetrates him from behind with her lubricated fingers and strokes his inner gland. He was completely electrified by the sudden surge of ecstasy and comes violently into her mouth as he cries her name. That was most exquisite orgasm he had ever experienced and it took him several moments to even regain higher cognitive function. He shivered as he watched her swallow it all and trace her fingers over his exceptionally sensitive body. He never knew when she slipped an ice cube into her mouth but she suddenly slings his head down, licks his neck up to his ear with an excruciatingly cold tongue and says mischievously, “How was that for a naughty sister?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for Galran: voltronrising.tumblr.com


	6. Fraternal Fantasy X-2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dear she loved him  
> with love unyielding, lady ruthless,  
> fair as fay-woman and fell-minded  
> in the world walking for the woe of men.”
> 
> \- JRR Tolkien, Fall of Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t read this at work, either. (Sadistically posted on a weekday morning.)

Nymuë had earlier said she thought Flotor was not quite as creative as her Lotor. She had yet to discover he was simply creative in different ways. The following was the beginning of a story he had woven for their characters as he coveted and craved her that evening. 

Theren was the first born of the Felociel royal family, next-in-line to assume the throne of the High Elves. Among mortal beings, elves were endowed with an exceptional longevity of seven to eight hundred years. Their disposition was, therefore, impervious to the petty strife and futile exertions of other mortals. Unlike the regular dispensation of other elves, however, the royal family spared no expense and no luxury for their only son. He wanted for nothing, and was blessed with the most prestigious education in the wizarding school of his choice. Their lives would be thrown into disorder when his father, King Thamior, entered into an scandalous affair with a human woman who then bore him a daughter. The mother tragically succumbed to post-partum haemorrhaging and the royal family was now burdened with not only an illegitimate child, but an impure one at that. 

Half-elves were invariably scorned throughout the kingdom, considered tainted with the blood and constitution of lesser mortals; with each passing year, Aeolyn experienced the redoubled derision and disdain of her relatives and townsfolk. Relatives, that is, except for her brother. 

Her kindness never became diseased or gnarled by the pestilence of cruelty and rejection that she experienced. It was for this reason, the fae, who seldom meddle in the flippant affairs of mortals, gifted her with an exquisitely rare jewel: the ancient magics of the spoken. Theren had always been inexorably drawn to her beauty and eloquence, but also treated her with extraordinary gentleness to perhaps temper the injustices he knew she was subject to. They were exceptionally affectionate with each other, perhaps excessively so for siblings. He would sweep away her long hair, kiss the nape of her neck, and linger a moment too long to breathe in her scent, causing her to shiver each time. When he embraced her, he would often run his hands across her supple chest, sending her heart racing. Lately, she would awaken in the morning to find him asleep next to her with his hand under her nightgown and an inexplicable wetness behind her. He fell under her entrancing spell the first time he heard her ethereal song. The first time he saw her bathe marked the beginning of their star-crossed love, and he became obsessed with her after seeing her voluptuous curves in the soft moonlight. He was able to restrain himself for perhaps an hour or so, before he entered her room that night. 

He admired the luscious ebony hair scattered beneath her, and the vulnerability of sleeping with her hands above her head. He peeled back her covers and ran his hand over her breasts, massaging her nipples through her gossamer-like nightgown. She stirred and sighed softly but did not awaken. Any compunction he may have had was instantly swept away by the deluge of desire he felt in that moment. He quickly discarded his clothing. He then unbuttoned her nightgown, drinking in her milky skin and willowy body under the faint glow of moon. As he lay down beside her and looked at her soft parted lips, he felt himself leaning in to taste her.

When she awoke, he was gently kissing her and caressing her breasts. She could feel his hard arousal pushing against her.

“What’s happening?” she cried as she tried to shake the heaviness of sleep from her limbs.

“Shhhh... Aeo, it’s me.”

“Th... Theren? What are you doing? Where are my clothes?”

“You won’t need them again tonight, my sweet flower,” he says softly as he tenderly brushes her cheek. “You don’t know how long I have desired you,” he says longingly as he slides his hand down her body and between her legs. She hoped he didn’t know the wild palpitations of her heart were from the mere touch of his hand.

“Theren, we shouldn’t...” she was unable to continue and sighed with pleasure as he stroked her entrance. It was a burning euphoria she had never thought possible. 

“No? Do you want me to stop, then?” he asks as he withdraws his hand. 

“I... I don’t know,” she whimpers. She didn’t want to admit that she liked the way he touched her. 

“Tell me you want me,” he breathes as he traces kisses down her neck and chest, leaving behind a new fire that unravelled her inhibitions. 

“But we shouldn’t...” she protested weakly. He takes her breast in his mouth and sucks hard, as he feverishly fondles the other one, eliciting a muffled shriek from her.

“Do not deny me, little sister, fell your defenses and give yourself to me.”

“Take me,” came her whispered surrender. He moved down to lick her jewel until her pleas became unrestrained and she bucked against him. He finally granted her release by inserting his finger into her and stroking her vigorously. She was suddenly lit with a hot rush of ecstasy as he dovetailed her into delirium. As she cried his name, she spoke pleasure into existence, creating a plane of unparalleled passion that encompassed them, and only them.

He subdued her by pinning her arms above her and slinging one leg up to her chest. As Theren gently entered her, he met a velvet resistance. “Aeo, you’re small, but you must take all of me.” He forcefully penetrates her and feels a soft burst. The sudden pressure of his large intrusion bore her no pain, only the beginning of a heady intoxication that would consume them both. She would cry for him again, stoking the flames of an insatiable lust within him. 

“You belong to me now, Aeo. I want to hear you cry for me,” he says as he lodges his thumb between her molars and begins to move slowly in her. He discovered quickly that the louder she was, the more her magic intensified his pleasure; she now had no choice with her mouth wedged open. Thrusting harder and deeper into her, he drew forth a string of lusty cries from her, flooding him with an intense heat. Every breath they drew brought them closer to nirvana and she was now begging and screaming his name. As he feels her tighten around him, he says fiercely, “Come for me, Aeolyn.” Her body obeys and she is overtaken by a second tidal wave. She clenches him so tightly that he comes into her as he groans her name.

Flotor is interrupted from his fantasy at this point as he notices Nymuë leave the party by herself. He immediately takes his leave of his friends and follows her to her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkein’s excerpt describes Guinevere and Lancelot’s forbidden love.


	7. Fraternal Fantasy X-3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lord, what fools these mortals be.” - Puck
> 
> \- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theren should have been a monk.

Theren had had many women before, all of whom were incomparable to the crown jewel that was Aeolyn. He bedded her every night after their first union, and though he drank deeply of her ambrosial love, he could never fully quench his thirst. Making love to her became an increasingly transcendent experience; he came closer to the fae world than any other mortal. Time was meaningless. Pleasure was divinely heightened. Lust was all-consuming. Such was the nature of fae magic, and hers was one that was far surpassed his own; it slowly drove mortals mad with desire and few could subjugate it. Were his own magic not so powerful, he would have succumbed long ago. 

Nights bled into days, and as his obsessions crept into the light, her beauty became ever more irresistible to him. He particularly enjoyed the indecency of pulling her from a room full of guests and into a darkened stairwell while cupping his hand over her mouth. He relished her heavy breathing and sensual moans as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear and slid his hand between her legs to finger her until she came for him. With company in the next room, he would bend her over a table, roughly have his way with her, and return with poise for afternoon tea. She felt some reprieve when the royal family was invited to the kingdom of Aretea, giving her some respite from his increasingly brazen advances.

As she happily sat across from him during their carriage ride, she soon noticed the gleam in his eye became almost predatory. He pulled her into him and buried his face into her neck to take in her scent. He would lick her neck and trace his lips across her smooth skin before deeply inhaling again. The shivers and goosebumps he gave her this time were tinged with trepidation. Despite her futile protests, he began unlacing her bodice and pulling her dress off of her. He wordlessly took her breast in his mouth and suckled her into submission, forcing her to collapse into him and heed his wishes. Pulling her astride him, he took her hand to stroke him until he was hard before he forcefully entered her. As she fell prey to the rough jolting of the carriage and his merciless pumping, she couldn’t suppress her cries, bringing him an intoxicating jolt of the ecstasy he now ceaselessly craved. As she kissed him tenderly, it was with heaviness that she decided to leave to find a cure for his descent into madness. 

Theren’s true quest, which remained unspoken to his new cohort, was also to seek a way to tame fae enchantment, and once again bring Aeolyn back to him. She had started to adopt an otherworldly appearance lately, enveloped in a faint luminescent glow. According to lore, fae were terribly mercurial, at times sinister and at others, sanguine. However, much of the knowledge of the ancients had been lost to the world and he knew time was not his ally. His last resort would be to curry favour with them by defeating the Elders. He retained sufficient lucidity to know she had left to protect him, but he could not quell his desire for her, and in her absence, his thoughts were dominated by her, the sweetness of her lips, the lull of her song, and the softness of her body.

She had been gone only a week before he found her, and that infernal son of a lotus-eating goatmonger had already tracked her down. He supposed that rangers were adept at tracking prey; nonetheless, he would like nothing more than to see him fail. Ryder’s true identity was Prince Artan of the human kingdom of Aretea. King Thamior had intended to betroth Aeolyn to him as a means of not only getting rid of her, but also as a method of securing an alliance against the dark forces that now swept the land. Using his guile, Theren had managed to convince his father that no human could withstand the powers infused within her and that such an alliance would spell the doom of Aretea. Her home could only be within the grand spires of Felociel, birthplace and guardskeep of the most ancient magics. The enamoured prince went so far as to say he would take her under his wing and safeguard her for life. It was too late, however, in some respects. Artan had been completely smitten with her after their first meeting when they arrived in his kingdom. 

It is at this point in time that Theren appears before her at the Inn. He hadn’t slept with Aeolyn in a week. His desperation was palpable, his mind stretched thin with longing. And she had the audacity to casually dismiss him after their excruciating separation. Then that son of a two-faced jackal, who had not even the faintest inkling of the powers at work here, had the temerity to interject with such profound ignorance. 

“How’s that for a naughty sister?” she said mischievously. 

Theren smiled impishly. She would submit to him again by the time he was finished.

He brings her into the bedroom and blindfolds her tightly. The slight fear and uncertainty that now punctured her world of calculated control amplified her remaining senses, and magnified the pleasure and pain he would inflict. 

“Do you know how unrelentingly I have yearned for you, Aeo?” he asks softly as he caresses her tenderly. As he lightly runs his hand up her bare back and into her hair, he suddenly twists a handful at the roots and tugs her head back. Aeolyn gasps with shock but he silences her with a deep and forceful kiss. Like seasonal monsoons inundating grounded grottos, Theren plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, forcibly conveying the cavernous depths of his longing and the erosive effects of her absence. She was rendered breathless by the dizzying pressure he exerted, pulling her into him, and sealing the rift she had created, as his tongue vehemently swept hers into submission. He, however, was unsatisfied with her lacklustre kiss. He slid his hand gently out of her hair, soothingly rubbed her scalp and sensuously caressed her back a few times before resting it on her backside. As her heart quickened and her skin tingled in anticipation of where his hand was about to stray, he petted her before giving her a smart slap to indicate his displeasure. “Yet, you return to me with such middling affections.”

Aeolyn feels herself pushed down onto the bed and she is easily subdued by his weight on her, as he cups his hand over her mouth. The sensation of being restrained by him sends her heart fluttering, as a swarm of anticipatory pleasure flocks to her senses. He traces gentle kisses down her neck, stopping to suck sensually on a sensitive spot he finds above her collarbone, before he takes her breast in his mouth. She arches her back and sighs into his hand, seized by a disproportionate titillation, as the thrum of her rushing blood dampens her hearing. Suddenly, she issues a muffled shriek as he bites hard, enough to inflict pain but not enough to break the skin. He then suckles her to soothe the pain he caused. “You’re mine, Aeo, and you will cede control to me.” He continues to alternate tender kissing and punitive biting, fondling her breasts and tweaking her nipples to the sweet threshold of release, and unsparingly ceases his affections before she crosses over it.

He has no need for physical restraints, so shrewd are the psychological handcuffs with which he has bound her. Nor does he choose to exert any more corporal punishment, so exacting is the penalty of denial. Theren continues to tease her, winding a taut rope around her heart, and holding her will captive. Forcing her legs apart, he moves down to lap her wet slit, before he rolls his lips over her pearl. He drew her into his mouth and swept over it slowly. As he increased pressure with his lips and licked harder, the torrent of fire he sent through her had her at his mercy; she had never felt pleasure like this. She moaned so loudly and so sensually, Theren felt his resolve melting; he’d never seen her so aroused and so desperate for him. 

She rips off her blindfold as the unremittant swell of heat between her legs sends her into a frenzied hunger. “Tu me rends folle, baise-moi,” (you’re driving me crazy, fuck me) she whispers. He had meant to break her, and in the end, it was he who broke first; whatever her words meant, they were insanely sexy. All pretences are dropped as he throws her onto her hands and knees.

He drags her by the hips to the edge of the bed and stands to penetrate her. Everything fell away as he moved in her; she was pleasure, she was paradise, and she was his. The curve of her waist, the softness of her belle-chose, the arch of her back fuelled a fire that was already raging out of control. He grasped her hips to thrust deeper into her and was flushed with a submersing euphoria. 

“Plus fort (harder),” she sighed so sensually, he naturally obliged and took her harder and faster. He was so deep in her, and she was so close to him, he moaned her name loudly. The rhythm he had with her, it was music, it was rapture, it was divinity. 

“S’il te plait, défonce-moi!” (Please, fuck me hard) He knew what she wanted. If either of them thought they knew what pleasure was until now, they were both mistaken. He grasped her so tightly and thrust into her so vigorously he lifted her knees off the bed. As he feels the damn about to burst, she clenches him tightly and screams for him to come into her. They were both engulfed in a deafening, black-out, windstorm of pleasure. 

Flotor collapses, breathless on top of her. As he holds her tightly to him, she says, “That was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had.”

“My sweet flower, you have no idea. This was just the beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *texting in bed after Nymuë was asleep*  
> Flotor: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> Lotor: This is meant for emergencies! The fuck is that?!  
> Flotor: This is kind of an emergency. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> Lotor: I am engaging in an important mission!  
> Flotor: It was imperative that I inform you that Ryder is a bitch. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> Lotor: You primsky son of a prattling scrote.  
> Flotor: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	8. Sweet November (Flower)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I envy not in any moods  
> The captive void of noble rage,  
> The linnet born within the cage,  
> That never knew the summer woods: 
> 
> I envy not the beast that takes  
> His license in the field of time,  
> Unfetter'd by the sense of crime,  
> To whom a conscience never wakes; 
> 
> Nor, what may count itself as blest,  
> The heart that never plighted troth  
> But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;  
> Nor any want-begotten rest. 
> 
> I hold it true, whate'er befall;  
> I feel it, when I sorrow most;  
> 'Tis better to have loved and lost  
> Than never to have loved at all.” 
> 
> -Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam AHH

He awoke to someone soft and warm, curled in the crook of his arm and it took him a moment to remember where he was. It had been such a long time since he had felt a pervasive happiness. It was true that his previous budding relationship was thrilling, but it was incomparable to this. He sighed. Even though this was nothing more than a temporary arrangement, as transient as the migratory summer birds he used to watch as a child. He ran his hand over her soft skin and shivered when he thought of last night. That was the most phenomenal sex he had ever had; she knew his every weakness and obeyed his every wish, slipping seamlessly into the role play he desired. He wanted to keep her for his own. His alternate self was a goddamn lucky son of a bitch. 

He hadn’t noticed she had awoken and had been watching him when she says, “You look pensive. What are you thinking about?” 

“I am well aware that I cannot ask you to come with me when I leave. It does not lessen my desire to do so, however.”

“It was a quandary for both of us in this fantastic and fanciful situation. Do you perpetually deny your longing to later be filled with regret, or do you surrender to it, only to later know the pain of separation. I am so sorry that our path will lead to pain - it’s the last thing I would ever want for you. You’ve already suffered so much,” she says sorrowfully. 

“I would rather have you, if even for a few fleeting moments, than live my entire life never knowing you.”

She holds him tightly and says softly,

“I hold it true, whate'er befall;  
I feel it, when I sorrow most;  
'Tis better to have loved and lost  
Than never to have loved at all.

“It’s an excerpt from one of Tennyson’s poems. It’s why I give myself to you without reservation. I can do nothing about how little time we have, but perhaps an unfettered love can sweeten the cruelly brief month we have together.” 

“Are you in any pain from last night?” he says suddenly.

“No, I’m alright. Why?”

“My sweet flower,” he whispers fiercely, “take me inside you again.”


	9. Ni No Kuni: Warpath of the Wight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nobody wants to be here and nobody wants to leave.”  
> ― Cormac McCarthy, The Road

As the alliance members meet each other back at an inn, they are greeted by a loathsome new host. “Welcome to the Koripania Inn. Finest wining and dining on this side of the Weebian swamps,” he says, his words dripping with saccharin. 

“Ok,” begins Meklavar, “it says on the map that to be able to access the Aretean forests, past the Feldacore mountains, travellers need to be level nine and higher. Most of us are level six and only Theren is level eight.”

“I couldn’t help overhearing your plight, my dear travellers,” says the innkeeper. “If tortuous grinding to level up is not your cup of tea, may I suggest the message board here. ‘Tis a boon for bounty hunters looking to sharpen their mettle and strengthen their fortitude.”

Pike narrows his eyes as he approaches the board. A winsome creature called a mooble addressed him excitedly. “Hello friends, I’m Lillianipy and I’ve been here since the very beginning. I will grant you the stated reward upon completion of the respective hunt.”

“Hmm... a lot of these bounties look too hard for our level. What’s this? Workshop on how to open your chakras?”

“That’s pseudoscientific woo. Everyone knows you shouldn’t open the eighth chakra gate,” says Hunk matter-of-factly. The group gives him sceptical glances and continues on. They select their target and proceed to exit the inn. 

The innkeeper steps in front of the party. “Perhaps I neglected to mention, until you hand over all your inventory, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”

“Really? Do you really want to do this the hard way?” asks Meklavar with irritation.

“Hard for us, maybe,” says Block. “Our levels are so low that we can’t even see his armour class and hit points.”

“What are we gonna do, how are we gonna get out of here?” groans Pike.

Aeolyn shrugs. “You guys already have the answers. How do you defeat an enemy who is much stronger than you?” She had barely said two sentences and Theren was already entirely enraptured by her. All he wanted to do was carry her upstairs to the first available room.

Their eyes light up as Block says slyly, “I think I have a plan!” 

Aeolyn rolls first to cast confusion and sings an bewitching song to the innkeeper. 

“No wonder that’s confusing. I have no idea what you just sang,” laughs Meklavar.

“Me neither. Those were the original lyrics to FF VIII’s Eyes on Me. No one knows what they mean.”

Pike then incited a bar fight while the merry band of friends watched with delight and amusement from within a storage room. As the party was superbly distracted by the commotion outside, Theren audaciously pulls Aeolyn to the back of the room, covers one hand over her mouth and slides the other underneath her skirt; there he fingers her vigorously until she comes and shudders violently against him.

First to step up to the plate is a Drow Elf Rogue. As he draws his blade to face the dazed and confused innkeeper, he cries with a vengeful fury, “my name is Rush Sietedosuno. You killed my father! Prepare to die!” 

A monk appears from the shadows and launches unknowable shadow strikes. “You have forsaken the monastic traditions of asceticism and dared to ship the Bee and the Cat. You will never know my name. For I do not even know my name.”

As pandemonium intensifies and random goats are hurled across the room, several kiosks are destroyed, to the intense aggravation of their owners. “Oh my gourd, you squashed my squashes!” came a bloodcurdling shriek. The barkeep was now hemmed in, beset with frenzied accusers who steadily depleted his health. He managed to defeat them all in the end, however, with his health nearly completely expended, it was now visible to Aperture. 

Shiro now lead the charge with a heavenly strike of rainbow smite, and Valayun summoned the mystical unicorn, Pixion, to assist him. The rest of the team easily struck down his remaining points and as they all completed their turns, they simultaneously cry, “Aeolyn, FINISH HIM!”

She rolls slicing words with a critical hit and begins with this Eagle’s hit single.

“So you tried it your way, but you’re not so debonair,  
Swindled your guests, and now you’re livin’ on a prayer,  
You plunder and pillage, but baby, here’s the sitch:  
Your food is shitty and your cocktails suck,  
Karma’s a hell of a bitch

Blocked our leave from the doorway;  
Rang your own death knell  
That’s the dumbest thing we’ve ever seen  
This side of heaven or this side of hell  
Now you’re caught with your pants down, that’s a bit risqué,  
No one wants to see your hairy ass  
In women’s lingerie

“Welcome to the Motel Koripania  
Such a rubbish place  
Such a boorish face  
Plenty of room at the Motel Koripania,  
Any time of year, ‘cuz no one likes it here”

Aeolyn finished with a rousing guitar solo as the happy band laughed at her epic burn. Theren was doubled over in laughter. Defeating the Innkeeper gave them so much XP that they all leveled up twice. The Mooble approaches Pike and hands him a massive bag of gold. “Congratulations on defeating the infamous shapeshifter. He was the strongest bounty on our board.”

Everyone was going to town to upgrade their equipment with their plentiful reward money when Flotor interrupts. “In the absence of your Lotor, I am afraid I must take my leave of you to attend to his imperial duties. Please continue, friends. Come, Nymuë,” he says as he looks her in the eye and ushers her away with a superfluous urgency.

After they leave, Hunk says, “Man, those guys take their jobs seriously.”


	10. Ni No Kuni II: Renegade Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It may have escaped your notice but life isn’t fair.”
> 
> -JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order Of the Phoenix

“Ah, Commander Ashok, how nice of you to join us. What information do you have on the target,” begins Sendak. Zethrid and Ezor were casually lounging around, half-heartedly listening.

“Her name is Nymuë and she is emperor Lotor’s appointed diplomat and peace delegate. However, she also serves as a military strategist.”

“What are her strengths and weaknesses?”

“She is a veritable genius in multiple fields. She basically single-handedly crushed your rebellion with her use of propaganda and deep knowledge of military tactics. She worked behind the scenes to ensure your defeat at the Kral Zera, and again led the charge to your defeat at the labour planet, and then again, played a large role in your defeat at the battle of Feyiv, and ...”

“ENOUGH! We’ve heard enough about her strengths, what are her weaknesses?” There were faint snickers in the background.

“She values life as do all her human comrades. She will go to any length to save a life, even at the cost of her own.”

“Good, what else?”

“I am not familiar with any others. She is very difficult to outmanoeuvre because of her intelligence.”

“That will be enough. Well done, Commander. You will take Ezor with you to infiltrate central command. From there, she will incapacitate and capture this human and bring her to me. How often is she alone?”

“Not very often, sir. She is almost always with Emperor Lotor. There maybe a brief opportunity each day as they have recruited me to play in a music band with them, and we practice together to then perform at their tea parties. We don’t have a band name yet; I strongly object to the name the Lancettes but personally wouldn’t mind Vrepit Sassy. She will be alone with myself and the red paladin who used to be blue but is now red even though he still wears blue during such times. For that matter, I don’t know why the black paladin wears red, and the blue paladin wears pink but the green and the yellow still wear green and yellow.” Ezor laughs at his verbose monologue while Sendak’s patience grew thin.

“You play music for him like a court jester and have tea parties?! He must be losing his mind.”

“I have special communicators, sir, that cannot be traced,” Ashok says as he gives them each a package. “The success of this plan necessitates ease of immediate communication. They will integrate easily into your suits.”

“We will analyze them first for any... unintended additions before we use them.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

“Vrepit Sass... er...Vrepit Sa.”


	11. Paragon Age: Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And therefore is Love said to be a child,  
> Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.”
> 
> -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

After hurriedly leaving behind their friends to continue M&M, Flotor took Nymuë’s hand as he walked with her through the many corridors back to his quarters. He happily answered the innumerable questions she had for him. No, he didn’t write poetry, but he loved to read literature. Her heart quivered at this revelation. No, he had never met a little girl named Nueh, nor had he been shot and incapacitated on that planet. Yes, it had been destroyed by his father as well. What were the paladins like in his reality? Well, he just said they were not quite as humorous and zealously affectionate as the ones here. Except for Keith. Keith was more or less the same.

As his door slid open, she pressed something into his hand. He smiled with surprise and delight as he looked at the small, polished weight. 

“Is this comet material?” he asks with amusement. 

She nods excitedly. “I made for you. It will only activate for an Altean alchemist.”

His enthusiasm visibly diminished as he replied, “Perhaps you were not aware that I was unable to unlock the secrets at Oriande?”

“We’re going to help you this time, love.” 

His heart quickened. No one had ever called him that before. He was shaken more by her term of endearment than the prospect of attaining his goal. 

“You have done so much for me already. It is more than I could ask for,” he says softly as he tilts her head to kiss her.

As he slid off her clothing, it was the first time he had started to notice the innumerable scars she carried all over her body. With anger bubbling to the surface, he asked, “Is that son of a bran muffin hurting you? If he is...”

“No, no, he never would.” She brought his hand to her chest. “This was where clone Shiro pierced me with his sword.” She brought his hand to the back of her head which was disconcertingly uneven. “He may have also slammed my head on the ground and cracked my skull,” she says sheepishly. She bends over to show him her back. “The rest are from Dayak’s training. My Lotor was just as upset when he discovered all these scars.”

He was sickened. He had no idea how grievously she had been injured when she fought to save his other life and ultimately, his own as well. He also couldn’t believe anyone would willingly subject themselves to torture for the sake of another. Wading into the knowledge of her selflessness, the undertow pulled him asunder. The current of her love was astonishingly powerful and beautifully unrivalled. Any lingering heartache was jettisoned into an estuary of the distant past now, as he felt awash in a river of warmth. It was little wonder Lotor tempered a white-hot indignation at the thought of hurting her. He now couldn’t bring himself to do what he had originally wanted to.

“Tell me of your experiences at Oriande,” he says instead as he holds her close to him. 

“How familiar are you with children’s songs?” she smiles. “Under skies of blue...” He finished the lullaby for her and sighed. He had heard it many times among the Altean families in the colony. He had no idea the answer had been within his grasp. He didn’t even require her explanation. “One must give one’s own life to the white lion, rather than fight it to the death like I did,” he says resignedly. “You were able to decipher this prior to their entry?” he asked in astonishment. 

“Well, how did you solve the puzzle so quickly? I had to give them a ‘well, noblesse oblige, with unfathomable power comes commensurate responsibility’ speech,” she says with a comical gruffness, “and it still took Allura and Lotor a while to do so.”

“I have learned a few things since my arrival here. Not the least of which is the virtue by which you abide, and the immensity of love that guides all your actions. This abundance of kindness changes everyone you meet. It is extraordinary.”

“Well,” she begins bashfully, but he silences her with a kiss. He knew she was going to deflect his praise and he wasn’t going to let her. As he pushed her down and climbed on top of her, he understood why Lotor was always dragging her away. Unlike Theren, there was no supernatural curse entangling his mind but, like Theren, he couldn’t get enough of her.


	12. Child of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be, or not to be, that is the question:  
> Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer  
> The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,  
> Or to take arms against a sea of troubles  
> And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,  
> No more; and by a sleep to say we end  
> The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks  
> That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation  
> Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;  
> To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:  
> For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,  
> When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,  
> Must give us pause—there's the respect  
> That makes calamity of so long life.
> 
> \- William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Later in the afternoon, Aperture was so thrilled to have levelled up and gotten high level equipment that they decided to forgo the tea party and play another round. Commander Ashok wouldn’t return until later anyway. 

The team had successfully defeated several monsters en route to the Aretean forests, thus bringing each member to level nine, as required for entry, while Theren was almost level eleven. As they slipped along the trodden russet path, and were enveloped in the sweet fragrance of the Aretean flora, the scintillating komorebi rays enchanted their senses and lulled them into bliss. Whimsical trills of laughter echoed from the treetops as lithe, viridescent figures darted about under the resplendent canopy. Meklavar, being resistant to most magic, was the first to recognize the cobwebs of illusion. “This is a friendship charm guys, you gotta break out of it!”

Aeolyn quickly plays a song of bardic inspiration to ensure all saving throws are high enough to counteract the charms on each member; with this initial success, they are now immune for twenty four hours. As they quickly gather their wits and try to formulate a plan, Theren explains urgently, “Those are Driads, or fallen fae, creatures bound to a host tree by more powerful fae as punishment for interloping with mortals. They are resistant to magic, but susceptible to ranged and melee attacks. Pay heed, however, while weak individually, they are nearly invincible as a hive.”

“Dunno if a bluff will help this time,” laments Pike. 

Aeolyn wanted to hear Theren’s strategy as she held his arm and affectionately looked up at him, but he chose to remain mum on the issue. He smiled instead, slid his hand down her waist and gave her a gentle nudge forward. She sighed deeply and said, “what’s the oldest military strategy in the world, when you are drastically outnumbered, used heavily by the trireme navy during the time of Peloponnesian war, as well as King Leonidas of Sparta against the Persian army?” 

“Argh, I never saw that movie,” says Block. 

“No time for dalliance,” she replies quickly. “The answer is bottlenecking the enemy and this is our plan.”

Theren was impressed she had memorized all of their inventory and so fluidly wove a concise plan of attack, optimizing the strengths of each member. It was clear she was always aware of her surroundings, easily incorporating the environment to their advantage. As always, she shrewdly drew her tactics from a vast well of military knowledge. The happiness he felt working alongside her made his mind clearer and he was able to enjoy the thrill of a challenge. However small, there was now a shift within him.

As Theren prepared a powerful wintry wasteland spell, the remainder of the band took refuge in a narrow inlet sheltered by towering white cliffs. The purpose of ice and snow was twofold; the damage done to the host trees would also be felt by the driads, while reducing the dexterity of those who fail their saving throws. It would also give the team a boost in phase two. This spell drained most of his mana and he would require a long rest before he could cast another. He moves to the back of the group and sits down beside Aeolyn. Allura summons her frost griffon, Sunniday, to bait the now languid fae. 

Already enraged by the damage dealt to their sacred forest, the fae pursued the feathered menace with fervour. Their screeches of fury grated on the ears of their opponents. With a heightened dexterity from the chill bonus, Sunni swoops at them with pin-point precision, felling four hapless fae at once. Another three are grounded, knowing nothing more than a flurry of beak and claws before darkness claims them. With her summon tiring, phase three is initiated. The griffon now switches tactics and flees from her incensed foes. Into the darkness of the stenotic pass she flies, bringing her swarm of pursuers. A heavenly sword strikes, a deadly blade swipes, a battle axe cleaves in two, and ten more are downed. The sure thrust of a rapier strikes true another errant fae. Hives always consisted of forty four fae, and in this manner, all but one had been incapacitated. 

She was a particularly powerful and clever one, not susceptible to the childish tricks of this amateur band. She was ancient and she was not to be trifled with. This fae spoke with animals and merged in and out of trees at will. She sent hordes of insects and flocks of vicious birds at the wearied allies. As per Aeolyn’s request, Block rolls with an inspiration advantage he had saved from a prior quest. With a surge of wild magic, he deals necrotic damage to every surrounding creature within thirty feet, including the ancient fae. As dead insects rain down upon them, and with swords pointed at her throat, Theren steps in and the driad is given a choice. She can tell them how to control the fae enchantment upon Aeolyn and Theren or risk certain death. 

The maniacal warble of laughter that escapes her throat pierces the hushed forest. “You come to me with feeble fight, ’tis truth you seek but can’t exhume, never shall you know thy plight, you’ll knoweth it upon thy tomb,” she sings maliciously before she shrieks with laughter again. 

Now unbeknownst to this particular fae, Aeolyn intrinsically has an extraordinary level of charisma. Hidden from plain sight as well is the inspiration she has saved from each of her friends each time she sings a commendable song of vicious mockery. With the absolute maximum level of charisma, she rolls to intimidate. 

Suddenly, her own fae magic appears to burst forth in a blinding light as she assumes the appearance of their own Arch Fae. “You dare to mock me, you oophoric fuckwomble? You tell this gentleman what he wants to know, or I will burn every motherfucking tree in your precious fucking forest and I will murder your motherfucking lover and every single fucking descendant he has until every trace of him is wiped from this godforasaken planet. And then I’ll serve them to you for breakfast. What’s it gonna be, motherfucker?”

The terrified fae relents and tells them everything they want to know. 

“Ancient speak grants untold woe,  
To the One they alight upon,  
Her fate to fall upon death’s throes,  
To wrench life from the Elder One.

Yet turn of time beggars belief,  
As Elder from death’s door returns,  
The mortal world draws no relief,  
Each cycle to repeat and churn.

‘Neath skies of blue, trundle the few,  
Righteous swords do they eschew,  
And from within light will imbue,  
A child of life, reborn anew. 

The fury that passes through Theren ignites his entire being. He drags the fae woman by the neck and seethes through his teeth, “You are lying! I would undo you now if you are. You mean to tell me you wicked, craven, debased creatures have been raising her for slaughter? That she is the only one who can defeat the Elder at the cost of her life?” The sword he holds to her neck draws a drop of blood.

“Yes, my lovelorn Prince, ‘tis true, this she knows in flesh and in sinew.” Theren throws her to the ground in disgust. Meklavar tries to comfort him. “We’ll find a way around this. We make our own path. And we’ll do it together.”

He smiles weakly. His happiness was suddenly stripped away from him. Monsters and Mana was the one place he could completely have her. Like a string wound too taut on a stiff-necked lute, he let himself snap.


	13. Error’s Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Humans have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.”  
> ― J.K. Rowling, The Tales of Beedle the Bard

“Op. One, I have the target in sight. He’s gone totally nuts. Keeps talking to himself and laughing. Permission to engage.”

“Copy, Op. Two. One flew over the cuckoo’s nest. Tweet tweet on the street. Thunderbirds are go. Over.”

“Why the fuck are you in charge, again?”

“Because I’m Vrepit Sassy. I’m a better drummer than Ringo Starr.”

“Ringo wasn’t even the best drummer in the Beatles.”

“Mmm... debatable. We meet back at the shuttle. I already have my target. Walk, walk, fashion, baby, work it, I’M A FREE BITCH BABY.”

“Sendak is going to murder you himself when we get back.”

“J’adore l’amour, je veux ton revenge...”

“Just shut up already, Sassy.”

Earlier in the evening, Flotor knocked over the game table and stormed off. He slammed his fist into the wall as he exited the room, dripping blood from his wound. Nymuë grabbed her medical bag to treat his injury and ran after him, but was forcibly subdued from behind and sedated. Before she lost consciousness, a familiar voice male said, “To be or not to be, that is the question.”


	14. Assentors’ Creed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.”
> 
> ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Nymuë awoke with her arms and legs restrained, lying on a cold, hard floor. She was surrounded in darkness and she could hear very little noise. Being careful to lay still and not betray her wakefulness, she quickly analyzed her situation. No one in the Galra empire except Lotor has read Shakespeare. That voice undoubtedly belonged to Commander Ashok; it was a message she needed to decode quickly. She didn’t need to think very long, however. Just like Hamlet feigned madness, Flotor was also pretending to be insane. Punching the wall was purposeful; he had injured his hand so she could get her medical bag. She looked around her and there it was, surreptitiously hidden under a crevice. Why would she need it? Her head was foggy and she was still drowsy. There had to be a hint somewhere. She thought back to Flotor’s performance and it all became clear. 

Nymuë and Flotor were thrown before Sendak shortly thereafter. Flotor continues with his daft and fruity demeanour. She couldn’t even look at him or she would risk blowing his cover by laughing. 

Commander Ashok laughs maniacally and says, “we’ve got you now, emperor Lotor, there is no escape.”

“Why would I want to escape?”

“Um, because we’re going to off you?”

“Oh, well, you’ve got the wrong man,” Flotor giggles. 

“What?”

“Because my twin is actually running the empire. I’m just a figment of your imagination,” he laughs aloud. 

“He’s gone absolutely mad,” says Sendak with aborrhence.

“I promise you, you won’t like this little gift we have for you,” Ashok says maliciously.

“Then I want a refund.”

“You can’t return gifts, that’s being rude.”

“What if it came with a gift receipt?”

“Well, there isn’t one. Evil doesn’t come with receipts!”

“Can I regift it then?”

“You’re forgetting the reason for the season!”

“No, I always complain about the unorthodoxy of plain red holiday beverage cups.”

“ENOUGH!” yells Sendak, “I’m going to murder all of you starting with you, Lotor. And you are going to watch your precious mouse die before your eyes as well. 

“Is that before or after the gift exchange?” Flotor asks innocently. “And is this going to take a long time, because I’m not gonna lie, I have a hair appointment I really need to get to. Thinking of trying a Brazilian Blowout. You should come with, Mr. Monocle, your sideburns are atrocious.”

“You don’t seem to grasp the gravity of this situation, Lotor.”

“I am perfectly aware that you need a spa day to fix... ugh, all of that,” he says with disgust as he looks him up and down. 

“Ashok, kill him.”

“Killing is a bit harsh don’t you think? I would prefer a massage.” 

As commander Ashok is about to administer the poison, he is knocked back by a cloaked figure. Haggar suddenly appears to wrench the hypospray away. 

“You dare defy me, you treasonous rat?” she hisses.

“I have long freed myself from your insidious grasp. I’m no longer under your control,” Sendak snarls.

Both Haggar and Sendak are suddenly entangled in a web of red tendrils, seized and enervated. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Sendak rasps.

Commander Ashok dusts himself off and takes a bow. “This performance was brought to you courtesy of Emperor Lotor. We’ll be here all night, thank you, thank you very much.” 

“Ezor, Zethrid, I order you to kill these traitors!”

“Well, we would but Lotor already offered us triple what you did, so.... nah.”

“You never would have survived that poison!”

“Actually,” interrupts Nymuë, “the Novichok agent you obtained from the Russians is an organophosphate acetylcholinesterase inhibitor which is easily counteracted with atropine. Which I have in my pocket actually.”

“How? There wasn’t supposed to be an antidote out here.”

“It happens to be standard issue for cardiac resuscitation. Just also happens to be an antidote for that nerve agent. You didn’t do your homework.”

“How could you possibly know all of that? How could any of you have known all of my plans?”

Ashok shrugs. “You think Lotor told Thrakol about Nymuë by accident? She already knew he had double crossed us. It was purposely leaked to you. And I never told you she is a doctor. Funny thing about evil. It always LOSES. Good enough for everybody? Smiles all around? Let’s get outta here!”


	15. Arcane Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wise men say only fools rush in  
> But I can't help falling in love with you  
> Shall I stay?  
> Would it be a sin  
> If I can't help falling in love with you?
> 
> \- Joker

With Haggar and Sendak secured in their respective holding cells, Flotor, Nymuë, Ashok, Zethrid and Ezor make preparations to depart in the shuttle. 

“So, you’re Nymuë,” begins Ezor. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” she smiles. 

“Did you really single-handedly dismantle Sendak’s rebellion?”

“No, of course not! I had a lot of help. And I had nothing to do with this whole masquerade.” She doesn’t see Ashok making faces behind her and shaking his head. “He was the star of the show: Lotor’s performance was brilliant!” she sighs as she moves to treat his injured hand. “All of you risked your lives to save us. I can’t thank you enough.” She turns back to Flotor. “And you pretended to go crazy so he would be less inclined to hurt me in front of you, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, however, the mastermind behind this entire scheme was your Lotor: defeating Sendak was the merely the penultimate goal. Capturing Haggar and ridding this universe of that abomination was his final task.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘your Lotor’?” ask Zethrid and Ezor simultaneously. 

“I am not from this reality,” Flotor answers, “Nymuë rescued both of us from the quintessence field.”

Ezor clutches her head in distress. “Why am I always the last to know?! UUUGHH! He never tells us anything!” She then goes right up to Flotor, narrows her eyes, and strokes his hair. “You sure look like him.”

“Well, I am him, from another reality.”

“My brain doesn’t really understand how that is possible.”

“Tell me about it,” Nymuë mutters. Flotor stifles a laugh.

“Speaking of Lotor, where is he, then?” asks Zethrid. 

“My presence here remains classified information. He still has a few tricks up his sleeve in case the prisoners escape and he will remain unseen until they are... taken care of.” 

“I am glad to be coming back with you guys. Do you know how boooooring it was to hang out with Sendak?” asks Ezor with exasperation. “Haggar, though, was the MOST boring person of all time. It should be a crime to be that socially inept.” 

As Commander Ashok piloted their shuttle, Flotor contentedly watched Nymuë talk and laugh with Ezor and Zethrid. Although these were not his own generals, they were admittedly nearly identical, yet, he had never even seen this side of their personalities. Nymuë could charm anyone with her wit, her humour, and her intelligence. It wasn’t solely her guile, however, that so compelled him. The memory of a barren, sand swept world came to mind all of a sudden and gripped his heart. The local inhabitants had fallen easily to the scourge of the Galra invasion given their resource-poor planet, but despite their mistreatment and suffering, they remained dignified and gracious. Survival in such an inhospitable environment had necessitated a generous and cooperative collective. An elderly woman had gifted him with a very rare cave flower, not of organic origin, but of mineral crystallization. She had simply said that even in darkness, hope can be found in the unlikeliest of places and that all of love’s petals are bound together by it, the strongest of virtues. He, in his youthful arrogance, had casually dismissed it as the whimsical ramblings of an ideologue, and never thought upon it again. He understood now, the truth she had spoken: it was the suffocating quicksand of despair that ultimately pulled him into a pit of insanity. 

As they disembark at Central Command, Nymuë smiles slyly. “You guys ever heard of nucleation?” she asks as she pulls out a roll of sasparilla candies Hunk had made. “These are special because of the dozens of sugared layers with hundreds of tiny fissures.”

“I love Hunk’s candies!!” yells Ashok a little too loudly.

Nymuë takes one of their fire extinguishers. “Do you know what is inside this?” Flotor had no idea where she was going with this, so he merely answered her question. “It is a mixture of flame retardant.”

“The key is that it is a pressurized liquid with dissolved carbon dioxide.”

She takes several empty sustenance packets and drops several candies in each. “The retardant is too pressurized to be of use to us like this, however, if we release just enough pressure by spraying it into the packet, it should be perfect.” She fills each of the food packets and lightly seals them. Giving some to each of them, she says with urgency, “We have about 10 ticks left. Shake them as hard as you can and follow me.”

All of them are enthralled, as they have no idea what she was doing but the suspense alone was killing them. She suddenly turns in the middle of the hangar and screams “It’s go time, motherfuckers, you ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?” She then hurls several of her own packets at her nearest targets: Ashok and Flotor.

“Dance, motherfuckers, dance!” yells Nymuë. 

The stunned generals are shocked to behold the glorious sight of Ashok and Flotor covered head-to-toe in syrupy, multicoloured flame retardant. “Oh, it’s on now,” growls Ashok as he launches his packet at Nymuë, who ducks as it explodes onto Ezor. Zethrid laughed so hard that she was a moment too slow in avoiding Ezor’s surprise attack in the face. Nymuë is suddenly restrained from behind with a relentlessly powerful grip. She feels Flotor yank away her collar, shove his hand under her uniform and squeeze his candy bomb all over her bare skin. As he released her and saw her utterly shocked expression, he had such severe fits of laughter he was doubled over and clutching his belly. Ezor was on the floor slamming her fist into the ground and Ashok needed Zethrid to support him, he could hardly stand. They had never seen anything so funny in their lives. 

The commotion had awakened Haggar as she roused to see the syrupy, sticky pandemonium. “You fools,” she mutters to the response of no one. “Victory will be mine in the end.”

When they all finally regained composure, Ezor slings her arm around Nymuë’s neck and says, “I like you already. We’re going to have lots of fun.”

Buoyed by the string of victories he had contributed to, the raucous laughter that now filled his existence, and the kindness so freely extended to him by his new friends, hope returned to Lotor and he knew everything would be alright. He was ready to start again. Looking back at Nymuë now laughing with abandon at one of Ashok’s offhanded comments, he sighed deeply. She had brought healing, hope, and happiness to him beyond what he imagined was possible, sweeter than the fragrant nocturnal water blossoms of Altea, and rarer still. He would have to deal with these feelings when it came time to leave, but perhaps he could just indulge in them a little longer and claim her once more tonight.


	16. Aller Noir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Besame,  
> Besame mucho  
> Como si fuera ésta noche  
> La última vez  
> Besame, besame mucho  
> Que tengo miedo a perderte  
> Perderte después
> 
> \- Consuelo Velázquez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new profile pic is Commander Ashok courtesy of the illustrious Swordking63! 
> 
> WE LOVES IT, PRECIOUSSS.

Flotor hadn’t wanted to leave Nymuë’s side but completing his mission was paramount; after ensuring Lotor’s generals were settled and securing their elusive prisoners, he returns late that evening to seek her company. 

Entering her quarters, he was momentarily stunned. In the dim light, her attire left little to the imagination. She throws her arms around him as soon as he enters, thanking him for risking so much to save her. He had felt tired but was invigorated by her unabashed affections. Before he knew what she was doing, however, she popped a candy in his mouth. His amusement soon gave way to appreciation; it chased away the fatigue that permeated his body. After he finishes bathing, she gives him two more candies. This time, he laughed as he accepted them. 

“I do not believe I have eaten this many sugary confections or laughed to this degree in one day, even as a child,” he says as he pulls her close.

“I’m glad we can make you laugh. The whole point of enlisting you to play Monsters & Mana was for the express purpose of alleviating some of the heartache you’ve experienced.” He hadn’t realized they went to such lengths for his sake and is awash with emotion. 

She brushes her hand over his cheek and runs it through his hair. “Do you dance much back home?” she asks softly. 

“No, not since the days of my youth.” 

She wordlessly takes his hand and turns to lead him to the centre of the room. He can’t help admiring the curve of her neck and the soft obsidian locks cascading past her shoulders. His gaze is drawn down to the small of her back peeking through her tuliped camisole, as she turns to draw him close to her in time to the romantic lull of a Spanish guitar. 

Having been naive to the emotive range of music, his sudden immersion into a nightfall of melodic bliss enveloped his senses, timed with the release of the sugar that now enhanced every pleasurable sensation. Hesitation vanished into twilight, as the mellow lilt of the melody, the sway of her hips, and the warmth of her body left him wanting more. As he traced his hand down her waist, her soft harmony came to him in return, the sensual rolls of her tongue melting away his defenses. 

“It means kiss me as if tonight will be the last time,” she whispers as the music morphs into an exotic Latin beat, awakening a hypnotic intensity to all of her movements. She rocks her hips against him. His heart quickens. She presses her body into him. His hands roam freely over her. The moon rises on their passion play as he gives in to a tide of arousal and pulls her into a hungry kiss. 

He doesn’t realize she has led him to a chair until he is already sitting in it. Both the rhythm and her hips now up the ante as she straddles and gyrates against him, sending a pulsing desire coursing through him. The eventide of need, however, is suddenly eclipsed by a wave of desperation as she seductively strips off her clothing and traces kisses down his neck. He can’t wait any longer and takes her right there. 

Nymuë probably over did it a bit. He was so aroused he made love to her throughout the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She chose Besame Mucho and Bailando for Canon Lotor. 
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter was sponsored by Compassion, to offset any potential heartache TOMORROW.


	17. *testing testing, 123*

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for this special announcement. 

The word decimate originated from the practice of executing one in ten soldiers of a Roman platoon found guilty of a severe crime; it literally refers to reducing by one tenth. Today, it is often used synonymously (and erroneously) with destroy or devastate, which is the sense that Sam employs in the show. IT KINDA PISSES ME OFF.

When the paladins approach their own sector of the universe, Pidge exclaims that “it’s our solar system, it’s the Milky Way.” THE MILKY WAY IS A GALAXY AND YOU MOST CERTAINLY CANNOT SEE OUR SOLAR SYSTEM OR RECOGNIZE CONSTELLATIONS FROM THAT DISTANCE, BECAUSE IT CONTAINS FUCKING 200 BILLION STARS. 

But I’m fine. There is nothing else that I am mad at. Nothing at all.


	18. The Elder Trolls: Skyrim

Stillness. It was an unfamiliar sensation. The gentle morning that roused him from slumber illuminated new blooms of contentedness and an efflorescent serenity. There was a small weight pressed into his back and an arm wrapped lightly around his waist. Years of harsh discipline had conditioned his rigid early rising and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in by two vargas. And sacred mother of the ancients, Nymuë was going to be his undoing, the way she ignited a hanabi of desire within him. Last night had been exceptionally kind to him and there was nowhere else he would rather be. He turned around and buried his face into her hair. As he held her close and embraced the dream a little longer, her sweet floral fragrance lulled him back to sleep. 

When Flotor awoke again, breakfast and a little message next to it was waiting for him, but Nymuë had already left. He found her on the training deck sparring with Ezor and Zethrid. It was a mesmerizing sight. He was already familiar with the fighting techniques of his generals, but he had never seen Nymuë’s combat style. Zethrid and Ezor held the advantage in size and strength, but Nymuë compensated for her handicap with speed and precision. Her greatest strength was her predictive ability, always staying just one step ahead of her opponents. 

The trio continued for several minutes before they noticed Flotor and opted to take a break. 

“Why didn’t you attack us?” asks Zethrid with marked annoyance. 

“Can I tell you a little story?” 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“My parents and little brother were murdered in a brutal hate crime when I was five. This style of martial art helped me channel the anger and bitterness I felt, away from vengeance and into virtue.” As she bows to them, she explains, “my fist of aggression is covered by my hand of peace. My purpose, henceforth, has been to protect life, not to take it.”

She could tell Zethrid and Ezor didn’t like that answer so she smiled and set her hands on their arms. Ezor, in particular, had reacted with a rage simmering just beneath the surface. “All of that training helped me to save Lotor in the end. I understand, though, if you prefer blowing things up.” 

“I don’t like talking about this stuff, but before you came along, Lotor never would have given us another chance,” mumbles Zethrid. 

“Christ on a mushroom, all of you have just come out of the worst possible megalomaniacal shithole of a sado-tyrannical fucktocracy. Loyalty is not necessarily synonymous with total obedience, as per the lies you’ve been told. Listen, I was almost kicked out of the Garrison for insubordination numerous times because I made my own judgement calls. The battles of Copenhagen, of Gettysburg, and of Tannenberg are examples of numerous battles won by disobeying direct orders. Obedience is requisite for military discipline and order, however, there are exceptions when it is necessary to disobey your commanding officer. You made a call based on your assessment of the situation and in your case, it was the right one. Your ability to adapt is an incredible strength. Lotor is a smart guy. He knows all of that. He wouldn’t have chosen you to be his generals otherwise. I had nothing to do with it.” 

Commendation wasn’t something the generals were accustomed to. However incremental a change, Flotor could tell they were warming up to her. He realized that her irresistible magnetism would one day do what neither he nor his counterpart could do: compel an absolute loyalty from these generals. He made sure to make faces and gestures behind her back when she declined to take credit for it, though.

“Hey, you guys want to go destroy something now?” Nymuë says with a big grin. 

“Hell yes,” Zethrid smirks as she pounds her fist into her other palm. 

 

After an apology from Flotor for his indiscriminate behaviour the previous day and a lengthy explanation of subsequent chain of events, the paladins were ecstatic about such an incredible victory and warmly welcome their new arrivals. 

“Okay,” explains Coran, “you need to roll these three six-sided dice to determine your quantity of dexterity, constitution, intelligence, wisdom, strength, and charisma.”

“I just want to use the twenty-sided die for that. Take my chances,” yawns Ezor as she rolls a twenty on the first go, to loud cheers, and a two on the next, to some sniggering. Loud cackles of laughter escape from her as she says mischievously, “I’m going all in with twenty for wisdom and two for constitution. I’ll be so frail, Zethrid will have to carry me in a bunting bag.” 

“Hey, I never agreed to that.”

“You Dragonborn are so grumpy all the damn time. Go Fus Roh Da a guy off a mountain or something.”

Aperture trundles through the sunset woods in silence after learning of Aeolyn’s ill-fated prophesy. They needed a place to recover from their battle-wearied state and plan their next move but there was no shelter visible in the vicinity. They sit down and Aeolyn plays a song of rest to soothe their wounds and lift their spirits. 

As she begins her introduction, she is interrupted by crackling leaves and branches behind them. The party is momentarily stunned by the absurdity of the sight before them. A hulking Dragonborn warrior with permanent ferocity etched in her face was carrying a small, sickly-looking Gnome druid slung over her back. 

“Are you friend or foe?” asks Shiro.

“We are friends,” the gnome says cheerily. “We were hoping to hear your song of rest to also recover from our injuries. I’m Pipinpapadopplefrau but you can call me Pip.”

“I am Froot,” replies the laconic warrior. 

“So, what quest are you on?” inquires Meklavar after a round of introductions. 

“We just want to destroy things. If you have enemies that need some extermination, we’ll do it.”

“Please sit with us friends, and rest your weary feet,” Allura says warmly as Aeolyn begins her Disney tribute again.

Let’s get down to business, with this hit-and-run;  
Did she burn your corneas with the midnight sun?  
You're the saddest bunch I ever met,  
But you can bet before we're through,  
Sister, I'll get a laugh out of you

Let me tell you something, ‘bout this bitch named Fate,  
She’s about as fickle as a tinder date.  
It’s a spineless, failed, pathetic plot,  
‘Cause she hasn’t thought it through,  
Sounds to me, like she’s catfishing you

I'm not gonna wait with bated breath,  
I’m in charge of my own story,  
Boy, you think that I’ll bow to their whim?  
Those guys think they’ll be my death  
You fuckers think you’re ready for me?  
I’ll be the one to tear them limb from limb.

We’ll overcome like a flooding river  
Drown them out with a great monsoon  
Our lethal strike is our silent ire,  
Obstreperous as the smart side of the Spoon.

Encouraged and heartened by her timely song, the band makes camp for the night, unaware of the silent stalkers approaching in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s no word in English for a flower shaped explosion, so ‘hanabi’ was stolen for this chapter (= fireworks, flower fire).
> 
> There is also no word for sunlight filtering through trees, so ‘komorebi’ was stolen as well, for a previous chapter.
> 
> Also, Chibi Ezor in a bag = super kawaii


	19. Dragon Rage: Abolition

As dusk sweeps over the land, an ominous silence falls over the forest. Theren sharply inhales, tells Pike to throw on his cloak and whisks Aeolyn away from the group in a flash. 

“Aeo,” he says gravely, hiding her in dense shrubs, “Promise me you will not engage. I will handle this.”

“But why? I can help...”

“No, Aeo, stay here, stay hidden. Forest dragons hunt bards and take them as playthings. It will kill more of us if it knows you are among us. Promise me!” He says furiously, clenching her shoulders tightly.

“I... promise, Theren,” she says weakly. 

“I will come back for you,” he says quickly as he disappears and casts a haste spell on himself. 

He had only gone for a few minutes when she hears a distressed mewling in the distance. It sounded like... a baby. Aeolyn, in all her compassion, follows the sound of the cries.

Theren stealthily returns to his company to discover many of them incapacitated by a spell of fright. So this was an adult dragon, as he had feared. He quickly assesses his allies; all were indisposed, except for Pike and Pip, who the dragon could not see. As part of this notorious ambush initiative, the dragon instantly felled three party members with a claws and jaws fury attack; Valayun, Shiro, and Block were savaged to critically low health. 

“There is no use hiding yourself, wizard, I know you are there,” thunders a booming voice. “Now return to me that which is mine,” he cackles insidiously, “and perhaps I will consider sparing half of your lives.” Theren responds by entangling the dragon in a horrendously sticky, tensile web. The subsequent roar of fury levels the surrounding trees and deafens the party as the dragon thrashes furiously against his captivity. Because his actions are hastened, Theren also has opportunity to cast haste on Pip and Pike.

“Now, Pip! My web is flammable!” 

A low-pitched, deranged cackle can be heard from within Froot’s sack. As the psychotic laughter grows louder, so do the blackened, thunderous clouds overhead. The dragon is suddenly engulfed in a raging, swirling mass of fire and with winds reaching terminal velocity, even the dragon’s roar is silenced. 

With the charred beast suffering from heavy elemental damage, Theren directs Pike to give his unknown elixir to Pip to drink and then steal from the stunned creature. Meklavar has freed herself from her imposed terror but the incensed wyrm now spews poisonous gas on his surrounding foes, and sadistically mocks them. “I’m not even going to eat you when I’m through with you wretched beings.” 

Pip would have been devastated with one whiff of the poison gas but with a protective elixir on board, she was immune. With time running out and mana running low, Theren casts his last spell of imprisonment, compelling the conjugation of heavy chains from the ground to entrap their infuriated foe. Meklavar deals a blunted blow with her axe as Pip prepares her final spell. 

It was a conjuring Theren had never seen before, nor was aware even existed. Druids normally summon one fae creature at a time but she called upon an entire horde to attack their scaly adversary. The dragon breathed its last in a writhing, convulsing mass. Pip was truly a formidable ally and an even deadlier foe. 

The party breathed a collective sigh of relief; without Pip, they would have been lost. She was one of the most powerful druids in the land and easily brought down this indomitable enemy. As they rummaged through their inventory for poison antidotes, Meklavar suddenly asks, “Where’s Aeolyn?”

“She is safe, and not too far from here. It was necessary for me to hide her as these dragons preferentially collect bards and...”

There is suddenly a shriek that pierces the air, followed by sounds of intense struggle and breaking branches. They all knew who that voice belonged to as they took off running toward it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG CHIBI EZOR!! Chō kawaii!! Courtesy of the fantastical Swordking63!
> 
> *runs around screaming*


	20. Frooty and the Feast

“Aeo! Where are you?” calls Theren, as he leads the group, being one of the few with nightvision. It is then that he sees her pinned under the front claw of a juvenile dragon. The dread that he feels chills his entire being. His mana was depleted and it was almost certain Pip’s was as well. Block’s wild magic was unreliable because it was so unpredictable. They were still weak from the poison coursing through their veins, and half of them were almost dead. As all of these thoughts are running through his head, Aeolyn laughs and pushes the foot off of her. She casually gets up and scratches the baby under his chin as she coos in draconic to it. It happily rolls onto its back for more belly rubs and shakes its hind leg.

The entire company stood there flabbergasted. 

“What the heck?” exclaims Pike, “I thought all coranic forest dragons were evil!”

“Oh, he’s nothing but a big sweetheart, aren’t you? You’re a big sweetie pie, yes you are.” The baby nuzzles his head under her arm. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you could speak Draconic,” says Block.

“I can speak many languages,” she replies as she steps toward her brother. “But to address your true concerns, perhaps everything we think we know about these creatures is wrong.” She embraces Theren around his waist and looks him in the eye. “No one is born evil. Our environments play a large role in shaping who we are, so sometimes all we need is a helping hand.” She winks at Pip and Froot. 

Many of them collapse in that moment partially from relief but mostly from exhaustion. Theren found it difficult to believe how much charisma she possessed; dragons could not be tamed as far as he knew. They were too intelligent, too wily, and too selfish. He didn’t fully trust the youngling, and it remained to be seen whether it was playing their party as well. 

“Aeo,” he sighs with mixed consolation and consternation, “do not ever do that again.” He gathers her in an embrace and kisses her cheek.

As they took some time to treat their injuries and administer the appropriate antidotes, many of them were immediately enamoured with their new friend. While Block played fetch with the wyrmling, Theren suddenly adopts an intimidating presence and approaches Pip and Froot with suspicion. “When were you going to tell us you sought our protection for raiding that dragon’s lair?”

“Ohhhhh, you heard that part, did you?”

Theren crossed his arms and scowled.

“Well, the price was a castle and unlimited feasts for Froot. We were sent by Dakon to retrieve this jewel but we only got part of it, so it’s useless to everyone. I heard Dakon is dead now anyway,” Pip replies with resignation.

Only Theren notices Meklavar take a sudden keen notice in the jewel, so he says, “I believe it would be a fair trade for us to recruit you officially into our party. The dragon has a lair nearby that will be prone to plundering once word of its death becomes known. We will offer you double your share of the loot and only ask that you return that jewel to its rightful owner.”

“How do we know who it belongs to?”

“She is sitting right in front of you,” he says as he points to Meklavar. 

“Oh, that’s very generous of you, it’s useless to us anyway,” Pip says as she drops it into Meklavar’s eager hands. “The other part is missing.”

“Pike, do you care to show Meklavar what you pilfered from the dragon?” Pike tosses it over.

“This... this is the complete jewel of Gitan! You... Theren, how did you know?!”

“I had an expensive education,” he replies nonchalantly.


	21. Dragon Ball Zep

With most of the team leaden with fatigue, Aeolyn sets up camp and offers to take the first watch. It was just as well, since the newly orphaned dragonling was frightened, despite its friendly disposition, and followed closely on the heels of its guardian mother. To Theren’s great displeasure, the jealous baby plopped itself luxuriously between him and Aeo; it fell asleep contentedly with its head in her lap as she sang softly to it, but not before slapping him a few times with its tail and digging its claws into his back to push him away. 

Since Meklavar had been lucky enough to avoid physical damage, she takes the next watch. She sits down beside her friend and exhales her frustration. “Hey, Aeo, I’ve been thinking. I know you tried to cheer us up with your song, but I’m still worried about what that driad had said. Do you really think there is a way to work around it?”

Aeolyn stokes the campfire silently for a few moments, watching the plumes of red embers rise into the moonless sky. “I don’t know. All I can do is try.” She looks at Theren’s sleeping form. “I’d be willing to give my life if it meant it could save all of you, but if it is not necessary, then I would like to stick around a bit longer.” There was a low-pitched, contented rumble as she stroked the iridescent scales of her new companion.

“Hey, if we go into that dragon’s lair tomorrow, maybe there’s a chance we can find some information. Forest dragons collect sages and bards... maybe he has some prisoners who can give us information. He must also have draconic tomes. That’s the oldest known language so it might have ancient knowledge recorded somewhere about this whole Fae-Elder rivalry.”

“Thanks Mek, I didn’t want anyone to know I was scared but you made me feel better.” 

As dawn’s first light shone upon the battle-trodden company, many of them roused with reluctance. Their fitful night’s rest had been fraught with fear and apprehension. Theren hated to admit it, but they could use Ryder’s help right now. Apparently, that son of a filthy, filthy hag had been summoned back to his kingdom to defend against rising insurrection. Dragon’s lairs were notoriously difficult to find, protected by magic that slowly dissipated even after the death of its originator. He is interrupted from his thoughts by Aeo’s soft touch.

“You look worried,” she begins.

“You can always tell, Aeo,” he replies gently as he cups her face. “The dragons’s lair will still be protected by its magic, and without Ryder here, it will be difficult to locate.”

“Oh, is that all that’s bothering you?” Theren was surprised by her blasé response; it was a significant hurdle to overcome. 

Aeolyn nuzzles the baby dragon’s face with her own and speaks to it in a hissing, sibilant language. It was jarring every time he heard it, as it did not seem possible for their vocal cords to produce such sounds. The little beast responds with a crisp and throaty string of vocalizations. 

“Such a good boy! Who’s a good boy? Our little friend can take us there, Theren! And the magic will let him through, so as long as we travel with him, it won’t affect us.” 

Theren felt a bit sheepish. He hadn’t thought of simply asking the dragon. He glances at it and is still awestruck by its affectionate overtures. It is entirely captivated by her and to everyone’s amazement, it manages a raspy, “Aeo.”

She gasps in delight and kisses its snout. “You said my name! Such a smart baby!”

“Aeo,” it says again as it smacks Theren in the face with its tail. 

It is at this moment that Froot and Pip come over. The little dragon was a novelty for them as well, and Froot offers it a dried fish. She also speaks to it in short strident syllables to which it excitedly responds with, “Fwoo.” Now the whole camp is fully awake and everyone tries to get the dragon to say their name. Unfortunately for them, the baby was preferential to draconic speakers and opted to revel in their attention without reciprocation.

“Hey,” Pike asks in frustration. “How did you get him to say your name? What did you tell him?”

“I am Froot.” 

“Yeah, we know already. But what did you tell him?”

“I am Froot.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Hey, does the dragon have a name, by the way?”

“His name is Zepkrzlysts but we can call him Zep,” replies Aeolyn. 

The party sets off to find the elusive lair after clearing traces of their presence from the campsite. As Zep led his enchanted cohort deeper into the heart of the forest, a rank mist hung in the air, as ever thickening thorny shrubs threatened to entangle them. Theren explained that these phenomena were to be expected as deterrents to prevent marauder theft. The cave entrance was surreptitiously hidden in a thicket of serpentine vines, safeguarding a fantastic labyrinth within. The tunnels were so convoluted, it would have been an insurmountable endeavour without their young guide. Aeolyn notices Zep become increasingly agitated as they proceed so she stops to speak with him. He immediately calms under her hand but he delivers a foreboding message: there is already another creature here that reeks of evil and murderous intent. She comforts the baby and reassures him that they will protect him. He responds by huffing a cloud of smoke in her face and pushing his head into her. 

“Pip, I believe this is your specialty,” says Theren. 

Pip’s perception check yields an unforeseen opportunity: the prowling monster was Shiro’s nemesis, the leviathan demon.


	22. The Bewitcher

Zep suddenly rears and hisses as he flattens his little ears. There is barely time to assume a battle formation when out of the darkness emerges a loathsome monster, smouldering with hatred, and sopping with bloodlust. 

“Block, break down his stats!” cries Mek.

“I can’t, he has some kind mind seal and I can’t read anything.”

Before Theren can advise them that demons are resistant to physical attacks, arrows are shot, axes are swung, and righteous swords have slashed. No damage is dealt, whereas their attacks have only served to infuriate the irascible beast. Strange, Theren thinks to himself. There should have been minor wounds and demons do not possess a mind seal ability. He steps back to observe the battle unfold. The fiend now counterattacks with magical bites and Block falls unconscious to its poison. Aeolyn strikes with her slicing words only to receive a magical bludgeoning. As she falls to the ground, little Zep shrieks with rage and spews his poisonous breath onto their ferocious foe. The answer is within grasp. Demons do not use enchanted weapons and are immune to poison but this creature is not. As Pip summons a violent storm of ice shards upon the leviathan, Theren solves the puzzle. 

“Shiro! This is a Celestial Coatl possessed by a fiend. Use your purification spell after I restrain it!” he cries as he stuns the creature with Spoken Power.

As Shiro directs a heavenly blast of light at the corrupted monster, it wrenches itself free from a screeching, thrashing black mass. All at once, the fiend and Theren disappear. As the panicked team members are struck with fear and dismay, Pip’s crazed laughter drowns out their cries. 

“Do you guys not know the first thing about demons? They have to be vanquished in the abyss or they’ll just respawn. Theren will be back in a minute, you dumb-dumbs.” Moments later, just as Pip said, he reappears without so much as a scratch. Aeolyn takes a moment to admire his intellectual prowess and magical fortitude as he bends down to tend to her.

The creature that now stood before them assumed a radiant serpentine form, unfurling its splendidly-hued wings, before approaching Shiro. Her resounding angelic voice compelled an attentive silence from the party. 

“A grand emancipation, to which I am beholden, mortal of power,  
My token of gratitude, a lambent salvation at the eleventh hour.  
A new moon quarter turns Cisterna magna from the kismet dour.”

As she gently bestows a beautiful opalescent jewel to Shiro, the entire company finds all of their ailments cured, and their mana and health restored. Before Theren can ask this ancient of ancients a question, however, she swiftly streams past them toward the morning light. 

“‘Kay, I have no idea what she just said,” laments Pike.

“Me neither,” sighs Block.

Shiro sits down with the weight of his sudden realizations. “You know, my master was right. He said I would learn everything I needed to know by defeating the leviathan. If we had killed it based simply on a snapshot of its previous actions and its outward appearance, we would have committed a terrible injustice. A true leader knows when to extend mercy and compassion when it is essential. And as a result, who knows how those ripple effects will trickle down, and whose lives will be spared as a result. Thanks, Theren, this would have been impossible without you. This is such an amazing adventure!”

There were three party members who lagged behind the rest of the group, mulling over Shiro’s words, as the rest of them trotted behind their gleefully scampering dragon. For Pip and Froot, the thinking that guided this group was quite foreign to what they were accustomed to. And for Theren, he hadn’t noticed the shift within himself until it was verbalized by Shiro. Up until recently, he simply would have killed the abominable beast. He realized he only did what he did because Aeo had spared the life of the dragonling. 

As the adventurers sift through the vast treasure trove, Mek tries to help Aeo find answers in the large tomes they discover in his library. Pike and Shiro head to a nearby detention hold and discover several emaciated prisoners. 

“Hey, I remember you from the market!” exclaims Pike. “I totally know your name, it’s on the tip of my tongue. Why are you here anyway?” 

“My squash business was floundering so I took up sagehood. You can call me Sageking.”

Shiro inquires about the Fae and the Elders, but this ancient knowledge had long been lost from the guilds of storytellers and sages. Likewise, there were no leads found within the timeworn volumes. Aeolyn gasps, however, at an unlikely discovery. Within a book of remedies, lies a recipe to reverse Petrification.


	23. Fears of War

Nymuë pulls Flotor aside into a private room after their action-packed session of M&M and brings him close. She traces her fingers up his torso and pulls him into a passionate kiss. As he reaches his hand around her waist, she throws him against the wall and twists his arm behind his back. 

“What are you...?” he replies with shock.

“Spill the beans, motherfucker.”

“I am unfamiliar with that particular idiom.”

“I’ve given you plenty of time but you haven’t told me anything. What is Lotor up to?”

“I am afraid I cannot divulge that information.”

Nymuë sighs and lets him go. “He integrated our anemone program with his quintessence extraction tech and intends on harvesting Haggar and Sendak’s life force as restitution for their war crimes. He has kept me in the dark because he thinks that I will condemn his decision given the principles that I abide by. He’s also extracting information from Haggar on the whereabouts of her Druids and will mount a final assault to hunt them down. When he does capture them, he will also extract their quintessence.”

Flotor was speechless. He had been forewarned of her predictive acumen but to see it in action was still show-stopping. “How did you come to this conclusion?” was all he could manage to say.

“I know Lotor. I observe my surroundings. I surveyed the effects of anemone on our prisoners. It hasn’t slipped my notice that he’s working with Keith because of his wolf. He has recruited Acxa and the Blade to help him, but it’s not enough. We need to upgrade you immediately, we need Allura, and we need a new plan. If he continues on his current path, he will fail. Do you have a way to contact him?”

“Nymuë, are you certain failure is imminent?”

“Yes. Contact him immediately.”

Ancients almighty, he wanted her for his own.


	24. Fears of War 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You forget what you want to remember, and you remember what you want to forget.”  
> ― Cormac McCarthy, The Road

Allura decided to make sure Romelle wasn’t getting into trouble, while Pidge and Hunk, being on the verge of a breakthrough in syncing Altean and Galran technology, flee the scene after their gaming session. The remaining members were contemplative after Shiro’s unexpected exculpation of the leviathan. 

“I never thought playing a child’s game could be so much fun!” exclaims Ezor. 

“I like the baby dragon,” croons Zethrid. “And the coatl was cool too.”

“It’s nice to see you back in the game, Shiro,” Lance says, “literally and figuratively. I was starting to get worried since you hadn’t shown up to a lot of our meetings after your recovery.”

“Yeah, I guess I had a lot of things on my mind after several brushes with death. I never thought I’d live to see the day when I get to go home again.”

“Um, should we go?” asks Ezor tentatively.

“No, no, you’re welcome to stay. We’re part of the same team now.” Shiro replies with a smile. He leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head as Ezor rests her head on the table and absentmindedly rolls the die back and forth. 

“To be honest with you,” she says as she continues to flick the die, “I know how that feels. “We thought we were dead when Zarkon declared Lotor public enemy number one. Then we thought we were dead when we switched sides and Lotor defeated Zarkon. Then we ended up with Haggar who is scary as fuck and could kill us at any minute. And then Lotor went loopy and ejected us into space. I’m glad he’s normal again.”

“Yeah, me too. Sorry, we ejected you out of the shuttle craft,” laughs Shiro. 

“Water under the bridge,” mutters Zethrid. 

“So, Coran,” Shiro asks, “what made you think of making that demon into a celestial being? That was well done.”

“It was based on Lotor, actually.” Everyone suddenly perked up. “It is a chilling thought how closely we came to a battle to the death because we only had a snapshot, as you said, of his past actions, without understanding the rest of his life. Had he perished, the sequence of events right now would be much darker. But it only took one person to step back and realize the truth to change the course of history. What you did today in the game has forever altered the outcome at the end,” he says with a wink. “And like Lotor, she just needed a helping hand to release her from the evil that enveloped her, and aid her in achieving her true potential.”

Shiro sighed deeply. He had been feeling down about being away from home for so long and had been questioning all of the choices he had made thus far. This little bit of encouragement, however, was just what he needed. Takeshi Shirogane was back in the game. 

For Ezor and Zethrid, the warm hearthstone of friendship beckoned them irresistibly from the cold winds of fear and insecurity. They had no idea how jovial and likeable their enemies had been the entire time.


	25. Uncharted: A Just Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t need to be reminded that we’re up to our heads in dark water. I just want you boys to remember that we’re the gods-damned sharks.”  
> ― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora

Flotor: The gig is up, I repeat, the gig is up. You are so dead. That’s delta-echo-alpha-delta. Do you copy? Over.  
Lotor: The fuck are you on about?  
Flotor: Nymuë KNOWS. Better haul your ass back here STAT.  
Lotor: I cannot simply leave my post. We are pursuing a significant lead.  
Flotor: Call it off. She says your plan is going to fail. But you know, if you keep going and die, then I get to keep her. And her crêpes. Oh fuck, they are real and they are spectacular.  
Lotor: You are a son of a bitch.  
Flotor: Ten-four, you son of a pan fried noodle. I’m not the one sleeping on the couch tonight. Over. 

“So, when did that invertebrate, leaky-fucked goatbladder tell you he was coming back?”

Flotor laughed. “He will arrive in ten vargas with his team. They cannot desist immediately, as it will endanger the lives of many involved.”

“We have just enough time then! The paladins need thirty dobashes before we depart for Oriande. Allura will take you in the blue lion once we arrive there and you’re going to take the test again. The rest of the lions will be on standby in the battle cruiser we are taking.”

“Nymuë, I appreciate everything you have done. Do you believe we will encounter resistance there?”

“Don’t thank me yet. And yes, it is a precaution in case Haggar left traps for us.”

“You are truly remarkable,” he says gently as he brushes his fingers down her cheek. “I do, however, intend to express my gratitude before we leave,” he whispers as he unzips her uniform. 

“But there isn’t enough...” 

“Shhh...” he says putting his fingers to her lips. “Then you must hurry and do as I say.” Her protests fizzled out under the gush of desire that swept her. He had a way of making her want him like no other. 

 

“Welcome aboard, everyone,” Commander Ashok says enthusiastically. “I hear we are headed to a ship’s graveyard. Always a pleasure to fly us into uncertain death. Do you prefer plummeting to your death in a fiery inferno or being slowly digested in the gut of a white lion over a thousand years? I will try to cater to all your preferences.”

“I’ve always wanted to see a ships’ graveyard! And is Lotor going to get super powers from this place? Will he have to wear a mask afterwards? Do you think I can get them too? I’ve always wanted to say ‘moon prism power.’ Although, some moon princesses become the moon, so I wouldn’t want that.” Romelle carries on a series of loquaciously unrelated tangents as the paladins were trying to figure out how she even got on board.

Conversation was lighthearted during their journey and everyone was in high spirits. Allura was pensive. Flotor was often occupied in assisting with Imperial duties but she had a window of opportunity each day to speak with him while the musical trio held rehearsals. He had shown great interest in learning of their travels and of the discrepancies between their respective realities. His interactions with her, though friendly, maintained a formal nuance that she was intent on breaching. She had noticed the way he looked at Nymuë lately, and attributed it to jealousy of his alternate self. Maybe he still wasn’t over his heartbreak. In any case, today she would have much more time alone with him and she was going to make it count. There was no way she was going to lose him a second time.

As they approach the swirling white vortex amidst a sea of darkened ship fragments, Nymuë carefully observes Romelle as she dashes to and fro, excitedly chattering to whomever would pay her heed. Romelle’s presence was not coincidental, as everyone had been apt to believe. Their rapt attention is suddenly broken by Nymuë’s stunning announcement. “Allura, Lotor, you are going to have an additional passenger with you.” As they look back in surprise at Romelle’s glowing Altean marks, she continues, “I also just figured out how to defeat the power of the Komar.”

Allura should have been excited about this incredible discovery, but she let out an audible huff at the third wheel now coming on her date.

“Did you bring Romelle, then?” Flotor asks in astonishment.

“Yes, and I’ll explain everything but you must now focus on entering Oriande. I’ve already spoken with her regarding the responsibility of such power. She has passed the test as well. Alright, motherfuckers, I’m ready to kick ass and chew bubble gum. And I’m all outta bubblegum.”


	26. Heavenly Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I always prefer to believe the best of everybody, it saves so much trouble.” - Rudyard Kipling

With Oriande a soaring success for both Flotor and Romelle, the trip back to central command was replete with humor, trenchant jesting, and excited chatter. Unlike the dry humour of his counterpart, Flotor could be quite sarcastic and keenly hyperbolic, and it was the first time the paladins had seen this side break through his resolute and calculated comportment. Shiro shook his hand and then pulled him into a hug, which caught him off guard. How long had it been since he had had friends? He couldn’t remember. Throwing caution to the wind, he hugged them all. With Nymuë still giggling at his rather endearing reaction, he picked her up and twirled her around, to the laughter of everyone.

The elation he felt was so profound, it shone light into the recessed trenches of his heart. The empty vessels so barren and parched from an enduring absence of love were now filled to the brim and overflowing. His success today, however, was secondary to the reason he achieved it in the first place: that he was loved and cared for. The desperation to drown that emptiness with something, anything resembling happiness, had receded. 

Upon their return, Nymuë was surprised that all he wanted to do was hold her close and talk. So they spoke of his childhood, his adventures, and all the duplicitous ways he circumvented, thwarted, and rebelled against his father’s reign at every opportunity. She in turn, soothingly gave the affirmation and commendation that he had always sought. He often buried his face into her hair and kissed her head, taking comfort in the security of her love. They were a couple hours into their tête-à-tête when Lotor returned. 

Lotor was incredibly apprehensive when he opened the door, but there was nothing but warmth awaiting his arrival. Nymuë threw her arms around him and welcomed him home. He was taken by how much she had changed: the sultry sway, the confident glow, and the velvety voice. Had she always been this... sexy?

He clears his throat and blinks away his disbelief. “Are you not infuriated at my deception once again, and even more so at my ultimate plans?” 

“Although I should not be a part of this conversation,” Flotor interrupts, “I would also like to know. I did anticipate, after all, that he would be sleeping on the couch.”

“I imagine old habits die hard,” she begins as she takes his hand. “If you perceived any potential disapproval on my part, it could ultimately hinder your plan, and so you felt deception was necessary once again. Sendak and Haggar are the single biggest threats to our very existence.”

Lotor exhaled with visible relief and looked at her with great tenderness. “And what of my plans to exterminate Haggar and the druids?”

Nymuë shrugs. “You’re the emperor. If you deem them an existential threat to the safety of the universe, then that judgement is yours to pass. I mean, like I’ve previously stated, morality has a lot of grey areas and sometimes exceptions are necessary. This is war.”

Flotor gets up and heads toward the door. He pauses as he passes them both. “You are a goddamn lucky son of a bitch. I am now an Altean alchemist, she has discovered how to subvert the Komar, and you are not going to be castrated. Try to keep it down tonight,” he says he leaves.

Lotor looks at her in shock. “How much did you accomplish while I was away?”

“Not as much as you did. You risked so much to save me and your entire plan was brilliant. But let’s talk tomorrow. I missed you while you were gone.” 

As she took him into the bath, and traced her fingers over him, Lotor was about to discover just how much she had changed.


	27. Grand Theft Altean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Someday you’re going to fuck up so magnificently, so ambitiously, so overwhelmingly that the sky will light up and the moons will spin and the gods themselves will shit comets with glee.”  
> ― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora

Lotor had been exhausted when he had returned the previous night, so Nymuë quietly got up in the morning and let him sleep in. She was just about to make breakfast when she discovered Flotor in the doorway, watching her. 

“Oh, good morning, perfect timing, I needed to talk to you before we start hashing out our plans.”

“Oh? What is it you wish to tell me?” he says softly as he wraps his arms around her waist and kisses the nape of her neck.

“I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but I need to you to go through like the five stages of cognitive dissonance in about five minutes.”

“The what?”

“Oh, you know, when you encounter new information that contradicts a long-standing belief, you might enter into stages of gut wrenching defensiveness, teary re-evaluation, acknowledgement, shame, and finally glorious reconciliation,” she replies with a wink. 

Flotor narrows his eyes. “Alright. What earth-shattering information are you planning to tell me?”

“I don’t mean to assume that your path has been exactly the same as Lotor’s, but how much does it bother you if someone says your Altean ancestry is a weakness?”

He chuckled. “Prior to my arrival here, there may have been covert plotting to exact vengeance, however, I have since acknowledged the adverse effects of those long-standing lies and have perhaps discovered... new sources of strength,” he says as he runs his fingers through her hair. 

This was an unexpected revelation and she regretted ever saying he was not as introspective as her Lotor. She looked at him tenderly. All he had needed all along was the right catalyst. 

“I’m relieved I didn’t have to subject you to emotional turmoil before another tumultuous revelation, although I am sorry that you have had to walk that path alone. I should have asked you sooner.”

He was moved by her empathy and contented himself with caressing her as she continued to make breakfast. “I do not believe I have been alone since I arrived here,” he says as kisses her shoulder and slides his hand under her camisole. “With the exception of last night. I am afraid my hand is a poor substitute for your... company.” 

Nymuë gasps as her hand flies to her mouth. “I can’t believe you said that! You’re awful!”

Flotor grins devilishly as he unfastens his pants and pushes her against the wall. “Am I? Please tell me how awful I am,” he breathes as he enters her. 

They had already finished breakfast when Lotor finally awoke. The massage she had given last night was sublime and he slept more deeply than he had in a long time. He was still yawning when Flotor asks about the Komar. 

“I’ll have to start from the beginning. I’ve reviewed Haggar’s research, pored over science and battle logs, and spoken at length with Allura, Kolivan, and Keith about their battle with the druids and here’s what I’ve discovered. The Komar experiment took years of development and research because of one problem. The extraction technique is unstable and cannot be sustained without four high level druids of different directions. Haggar’s druids have been extensively modified, with few surviving to the final stages of druidic transformation.” Nymuë stops to take a deep breath.

“Before I continue though, how much information have you been able to extract from Haggar?” 

“I have the whereabouts of fifty percent of the druids.”

“Do you know what she’s been up to, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“What were her two most powerful experiments that we know of?”

“The Komar and the Robeasts.”

“The Komar experiment was bulky, inefficient due to dependence on multiple users, and vulnerable to attack. She discovered that when Allura destroyed it. What would you do if you wanted to streamline your most powerful weapons?”

Their breaths were sharply indrawn. “That shouldn’t be possible, you mentioned yourself that she required four druids to power it.”

“She’s also an Altean alchemist, now, is she not?”

“Is she? I had wondered how she regained a somewhat less grotesque appearance,” Flotor muses. 

“She opened a wormhole with a teleduv during our last battle. That’s how we know. So we know she’s been spying on us via clone Shiro. She saw the chaos unfold after you returned from the quintessence field with Allura, and took the opportunity to strike. Let me ask you now, if you were her, what would be your next move if you just discovered your son had unlocked a stable source of incredibly powerful quintessence, one that wouldn’t need four druids?”

Lotor stands suddenly as Flotor remarks with disdain, “I take issue with the ‘son’ part.”

“It’s been twenty days since she captured you. She can make a Robeast in a few days. When was the last time you checked on your Altean colony?” Nymuë asks darkly. 

Lotor moves to leave but Nymuë stopped him. 

“Let me ask you one more thing, love. Do you know why Zarkon destroyed Altea, why you’ve been denigrated your whole life about your Altean ancestry, and why Haggar didn’t want you to assume the throne?”

“The obvious answer would be because King Alfor destroyed Daibazaal but I assume you mean to tell me differently,” he says gently as he cups her face.

“I know I told both of you that your Altean ancestry was not a strength. That was done with the intention of healing the innumerable emotional scars you’ve been dealt. Now that you are whole again, I’m giving that assertion back to you in saying that Alteans are the most powerful mortal beings alive and that you were a threat to not just the Galra, but to the one controlling Haggar.”

For the third time that morning, both Lotors gasped in disbelief.

“And what of the power of the Komar? How do we defend against it?”

“There are four of you now, who possess the power of the four directions,” Nymuë grins.

Flotor comes to a sudden realization. “This is probably not the most opportune time to say this, but I think I also know how to save Aeolyn,” he remarks with conviction, to the confusion and irritation of the other two.


	28. The Hunt for Red Fucktober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Information is a beacon, a cudgel, an olive branch, a deterrent--all depending on who wields it and how.”  
> ― Steven D. Levitt, Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything

Lotor storms into the interrogation chamber where the languid and listless Haggar is shackled by innumerable red tendrils sapping her life force, barely allowing her to maintain consciousness. He slams his fist onto a nearby console, and growls with broiling indignation, “You lying, filthy hag! You and your druids took my colony. I’m only going to ask once before I make you suffer the worst pain you will know from here unto eternity: WHERE ARE THEY?”

Haggar laughs. “You cannot defeat me my s... ssssszs... ergggh.” Lotor interrupts her with an powerful electric shock. It is at this moment that Nymuë comes running in with tears in her eyes, yelling for him to stop. 

“Please, Lotor, don’t do this!” she sobs, “it’s wrong to inflict pain on her.”

“How did you get in here? This is none of your concern.”

“Please stop, for me. Let me talk to her.”

He sighs and tenderly gathers her into a kiss. “Alright. Call me if you need assistance.”

Haggar laughs wickedly. “You’re weak, you’ve always been weak, and now you allow this lowly human to leech your resolve. You’re not fit to be emperor.”

“How dare you?” Nymuë cries with tears in her eyes, “you’re not even half the person he is. Your evil prevented you from recognizing his kindness. It’s not too late, I know you have good in you, please tell us where the Alteans are.” She drops to her knees as she sobs loudly.

“I will not deign to speak with the garbage that you are. You are not worthy of my son.” She cackles with disgust. “Your mind is too feeble to comprehend my superior plans. Your precious Alteans will rot before you ever find them. You will fall to the power of my druids and my weapon will exterminate your kind before the next movement. You’re pathetic, get out of my sight.”

Nymuë suddenly discards her hysteria and stands with smugness. She calls Flotor on the intercom, “The Alteans are in the Ulippa system and her druids are mounting an ambush in the locations she has previously disclosed. Their final attack with the Komar Robeast will be launched against earth in one week. She flashes Haggar a wicked smile. “You just fell for the oldest interrogation tactic in the book, you maggoty, mould-warped, fucktrumpet.”

Earlier that morning...

“Lotor!” Nymuë says suddenly. “They’ve just checked our king.”

Lotor was almost out of the door when he whirls around at her alarming reference. “What?”

“You won’t find the Alteans there anymore. I’ve just realized that the druids are going to leverage them in exchange for Haggar. Those obfuscating, shitwafering, weasel-faced, fuckmuppets!” She slams her fist into the wall. 

“What is this king?” Flotor asks.

“It’s a reference to a move in a strategy game called chess,” Lotor answers, “when your opponent has just outmanoeuvred you. But how do you know that?” he turns to Nymuë. 

“When I made the improvised candy bombs, she said victory was going to be hers. Haggar doesn’t issue idle threats. She was referring to being one step ahead of us. Alright, motherfucker, we’ll play it your way.” She narrows her eyes. “I have something I need to do.”

Lotor whispers to Flotor, “She exploded candy bombs?”

“Funniest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. A shame you had to miss it,” he says, unsuccessfully suppressing a laugh. “You know, you really should stop leaving her in the dark. She is more intelligent than you are.”

Lotor gives him an irritated look. 

“Alright, bitches, last question. How have you been extracting information from Haggar? Don’t tell me you are torturing her.”

“I realize you have strong objections to the use of torture, but...” Lotor is interrupted. 

“No, not for the reasons you think. I’m well aware that Haggar used torture, as well, to forcibly claw out information but multitudinous scientific studies have conclusively shown that the use of torture is completely useless. We’ve known this for centuries; prisoners will say anything to make the pain stop, whether or not it is the truth. Your intel on the druids is therefore unreliable. There are sixteen espionage tactics to break a prisoner, none of which use noxious stimuli. How are the Galra so advanced and still ignorant of this? Christ for sale on Ebay, Haggar and her druids are fucking stupid. Alright, motherfuckers, it’s my turn. That bitch has no idea her Red Fucktober is going down.”

Flotor giggles, “She just called you ignorant.”

Nymuë embraces Lotor around the waist and says gently, “Go take care of any remaining Alteans, cheri. Take the paladins and Voltron with you. My role play partner and I are going to have a little chat with the witch.”


	29. The Last of Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.  
> I love thee to the depth and breadth and height  
> My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
> For the ends of being and ideal grace.  
> I love thee to the level of every day’s  
> Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.  
> I love thee freely, as men strive for right.  
> I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.  
> I love thee with the passion put to use  
> In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.  
> I love thee with a love I seemed to lose  
> With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,  
> Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,  
> I shall but love thee better after death.
> 
> \- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

As soon as Nymuë exited the chamber, Flotor picked her up in a crushing hug and laughed heartily. He relished partnering with someone who was as well-versed in the art of manipulation as he was, and undermining that old witch with such sneaky subterfuge was the most enjoyment he’d had since her sugary stunt.

He still had her in his arms when she asks, “Hey, Shiro is still around. He was responsible for most of the planning to take down Zarkon. Wanna make a battle plan with him to take down those motherfuckers?”

“Indeed, I would,” he replies with a smile as they proceed toward the exit.

As they walked together, Nymuë’s mirthful smile soon gave way to a melancholic one. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. 

“You appear troubled. What is it you wish to ask?”

She exhales deeply. “Lotor, what are we doing?” she asks as she covers her eyes with her fists. 

“I will assume you are not referring to military strategy.”

“I... think it would be wrong of me to even say this out loud. You have an entire empire, an entire reality that needs you.”

His breath caught and he stopped walking. “What is it, Nymuë? Please tell me.”

“Your ships are almost repaired but I... I don’t want you to leave,” she whispers. “See, I told you I shouldn’t have said it. I can’t believe how selfish I am. I went from disavowing any and all relationships, even with my own family, to a whirlwind romance with your alternate self, to this...” she pauses as she gestures frantically between the two of them. “Whatever this is, to...” she sighs as she runs her hands through her hair, “to loving both of you. Oh my god, I’m the stupidest person alive right now. Crisse, qu’est-ce qui se paaaasse?!”

Flotor was certain he felt his heart stop. It had never occurred to him that he could stay. The possibilities were suddenly endless. The permanent thunderclouds that shadowed his existence and drenched his happiness had parted. And when his thoughts turned to the endless ocean of bleakness that was his own reality, his heart twinged because it wasn’t as if... anyone was waiting for him to come back, anyway. He belonged... here.

He could barely conceal the ineffable elation that permeated him, but he knew they had to focus on the task at hand. He would expend whatever effort necessary to ensure the peace and prosperity of the empire and to guarantee the safety of those he... loved. He took a deep breath. It was the first time he had been willing to admit it to himself. He affectionately looked down at the bundle of nerves now crouched on the ground, clutching her hair, and picked her up. “Be at ease,” he says reassuringly, as he runs his hand through her hair to smooth the tangles she had created, “and perhaps we can speak more of it later. I will not leave if you do not wish it.”

She clasped her hands to her mouth as her eyes moistened.

“Now, let us find our friend to engineer a strategy unlike any those druids have ever seen. Together, we shall stamp out the enormity of evil and avarice that has too long infected this universe.”

During their conference with Shiro, Nymuë felt as though she was speaking with new people. They were as sharp, and versatile, as they were creative. All of them were aligned in their thinking and complemented each other superbly. It was a lissome dance of elegantly strategic choreography. 

“Hey Shiro,” Nymuë says at the end of their meeting, “You seem more like yourself lately. I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”

“Thanks. I’d been thinking a lot about going home. But I can stick it out here a bit longer. All of you have helped me get back on my feet.” 

She moves to set her hand on his shoulder and smiles warmly. “I haven’t forgotten about your hand, either. I already have a team constructing a suitable prosthetic for you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Lotor and the paladins returned shortly thereafter. There were not any Alteans left to save on their planet, unfortunately. Shiro excitedly greeted them all despite their downcast demeanour and breaks the good news. 

“You what?” cries Lance.

“It is as he says,” responds Flotor, “and we must move quickly. They are likely aware of your movements and are readying themselves for an attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crisse, qu’est-ce qui se passe - Fuck, what is happening


	30. Tortnite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Moral wounds have this particularity - they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart.” - Alexander Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

“Before we do anything else, please come with me,” Nymuë says to Romelle, Allura, and both Lotors. “Shiro will brief the rest of our team and organize our strike.”

Nymuë brings the four of them to the old strategy room that she occasionally used, and showed them the vast expanse of stars. 

“It’s beautiful in here,” gasps Romelle. Flotor cleared his throat and looked at the floor. 

“I can’t teach you what you need to do,” Nymuë says. “The answers are within you and you just need to find them. What I do know is that the energy you are capable of harnessing and discharging is sufficient to not just stop a Komar surge, but to silence it forever. My observations lead me to believe that if their power can be given, it can be taken away. You four are capable of this.”

Allura sighs. “None of us have been trained, though. What if... what if we can’t find it?”

“One of the best hockey players in history said, ‘you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.’ I’ll introduce you guys to hockey one day. I guess I could tell you all to sit and meditate upon your place in the universe but we’ll do this instead.”

She motions for Lotor to attack her. As she shows them each stance, fluidly dispelling each of his strikes, she explains, “he transforms his biochemical energy into kinetic energy, and I subsequently absorb or redirect it. I can also use it against him, though I choose not to. If I had the ability to convert it into electricity, I could direct it into his heart... and stop it.” As they continue their graceful dance, she says, “the Komar, the druids, your alchemy, none of these operate by magic per se. Quintessence energy is governed by laws, just as other forms of energy are governed by the laws of physics. If you know those laws, you can predict what your enemy will do, and you can thwart them.” Nymuë and Lotor stop simultaneously. 

“But I don’t know any laws, I barely know what all these powers mean,” laments Romelle. “Up until the other day, I thought Oriande was a children’s tale.”

“Which is why you are not here alone,” Nymuë replies gently as she touches her arm.

The other three seem to reach their revelations in unison. Lotor picks Nymuë up and hugs her tightly. “We must thank you once again for your brilliantly logical mind.” He shakes his head as he strokes her cheek. “The answer is so excruciatingly simple. We can negate the flow of their energy with our own. If it is precisely redirected to its origin, we should be able to incapacitate them.”

“I am somewhat ashamed for referring to it as magic the first time I went to Oriande,” Flotor says.

“I’ve always said the lions could not fully be explained by science,” Allura says sympathetically.

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it,” Nymuë says. “Just because science can’t explain something yet, doesn’t mean there isn’t a scientific explanation. It’s an easily avoidable pothole once one is cognizant of it.”

Allura was the first to wield a white shield of energy, having experienced the flow of dark energy. She was able to teach the other three how to do so as well, but all four of them would have to do so concurrently in order to protect something as large as Voltron or a ship. After a couple hours together on the training deck they regrouped to evaluate their progress. Meanwhile, Nymuë had left to assist Shiro and paladins with their preparations. 

She throws open the door to the training deck and gives everyone an excited update. “I have amazing news. Firstly, Shiro’s arm is ready for testing! Secondly, Pidge and Hunk have done it, they’ve integrated Altean and Galran tech. Galra battle ships and armour now have cloaking capability!”

While Allura helped Romelle hone her new skills, Lotor took his double and Nymuë aside. 

“I had hoped to ask you, what you meant by ‘the one controlling Haggar’?”

“Well, okay, the official reason for the destruction of Altea was continued and unyielding resistance. Zarkon wanted the lions, they fought, he won. But why did they continue to hunt down the remaining Alteans? Why were they so insistent on wiping every trace of their existence from the universe? Alteans posed a threat to the dark creatures in the void. Quintessence corrupts one’s mind, but I postulate to you that it is this primer that allows them to then assume control. Had we not rescued both of you from the quintessence field, they may have overtaken you as well.”

“This is certainly an interesting hypothesis,” Flotor muses. “You mean to say it is akin to some sort of parasite?”

“Maybe. It’s just an idea I’ve been tossing around in my head. There is one way to verify it.” She winces at the thought.

“You do not seem overly fond of the idea.”

“Parasites often exit the body of a dying host. We extract her quintessence to the brink of death and you will have your answer. The other possibility is simply that Haggar is pure evil and must be stopped at all costs. As much as I would like to say something idealistic like, ‘vengeance is a double edged sword’ or ‘all life is sacred,’ I realize it may not always possible to adhere to such fanciful dreams.”

“You have given me much to think upon,” Lotor smiles. 

“So, anyone up for tea? I am famished,” declares Flotor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this little story so far! Just need to take a smallish break cuz the tank is empty. Have a great weekend, everyone!


	31. Vile Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.”
> 
> \- Yann Martel, Life of Pi

“We are entering the realm of pure conjecture,” states Flotor as he eats a cupcake, “but perhaps similar to the lost knowledge of the Elders and the Fae, there was an epic struggle between the original life givers and the dark creatures that is now unremembered to all mortals.”

“May be they were sealed away by the sages so they could not wreak havoc and destroy life in any reality,” muses Nymuë.

“But when the comet struck, and Honerva’s experiments drew them forth once more, they had a chance to claim vengeance upon the descendants of the very ones who had imprisoned them,” Lotor finishes.

“So, Zarkon and Haggar were essentially puppets themselves, seeking Voltron not just for power,” says Flotor ominously, “but for a weapon to access all realities...”

“...and exterminate every Altean in existence,” Nymuë says shaking her head. “Sweet fuckjuice of the gods,” she whispers. 

“Have you tried her new cakes?” asks Flotor, “They are called shut the fucupcakes.”

Lotor says with an uncomfortable chuckle, “Then there would be absolutely nothing capable of stopping them. I do wonder about their origin. The power they have granted Haggar is exactly the opposite polarity to... ours.”

“The essence of corrupted life givers, perhaps?” Nymuë suggests.

Both Lotors become sullen and pensive. “If all this has a grain of truth to it, I must reconsider my position on Haggar,” Lotor starts. Flotor thought of the purity and beauty of the Coatl after it had been cleansed. He too, was stricken by the possibility that Honerva could have been so grossly infected.

“You know,” says Nymuë softly, “I’m glad you came to that conclusion on your own. I didn’t want you to do it because of me. This is a seminal moment in both of your lives. If I’m not mistaken, she was your greatest source of pain.”

Lotor looks at her with tenderness and gratitude. Though this was not a possibility he had previously considered, it began to extinguish his smouldering rage and sweep away the poisonous plumes of bitterness. He exhales a lifetime’s worth of relief as he draws her into an embrace. Flotor also felt a similar wind lift away those asphyxiating, toxic fumes. 

“There’s no evidence for any of this, and I’m afraid I don’t know how to obtain it,” Nymuë says dejectedly. “Even if some parasitic creature was ejected from Haggar, it doesn’t prove much of our speculation. And no such creature came out of Zarkon when he died.”

“What if they are irretrievably conjoined?” asks Flotor. “Then Honerva is indeed lost and the most merciful thing to do would be to end her suffering.” What he left unsaid was that he now had a duty to return to his own reality and ensure Voltron did not fall into the wrong hands. Perhaps he could recruit the assistance of his new friends, as well.

“There is much to prepare for,” Lotor says suddenly. We strike the Ulippa base in ten vargas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shut the fucupcakes is a shirt on amazon.


	32. Vile Shock 2: Honerva’s Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Those who 'abjure' violence can do so only because others are committing violence on their behalf.”
> 
> \- George Orwell

Earlier in the day...

As Nymuë and Flotor meet with Shiro to discuss their current predicament, all are agreed Kolivan must also be present for their proceedings. The tension rises like the stifling smoke of a wildfire, as they come to terms with the reality of a significant handicap. 

“Although my soldiers are well versed in advanced espionage, hostage rescue is not one of our areas of expertise. We have never undertaken an operation so complex,” admits Kolivan.

“My tactical training is also outside the realm of rescue operations,” says Shiro. 

“It will be extraordinarily difficult to accomplish such an endeavour without loss of life,” says Flotor. 

The timeliness of Nymuë’s admission is like a seasonal rainfall during a drought. “But that is precisely our advantage. They will not expect it of us. Hostage rescue doesn’t exist in the Galra empire,” she says as she stands. “We can and will capitalize on all of your strengths. Be warned, however, timing is paramount, and precision is imperative. Historically speaking, hostage rescue operations are crucially dependent on four cornerstones: intelligence, surprise, operator’s skill, and deception. Failure is inevitable if any one of these is neglected.”

Flotor leans his chin on his hand and furrows his eyebrows. Of course, she would know about hostage rescue. She was adept in just about everything that wasn’t her field of specialty. 

“Intelligence gathering is our specialty. I will arrange for a group of our senior tacticians to infiltrate the base,” replies Kolivan.

“We will need to know the number of guards, sentries, and druids we are dealing with, their guard patterns, and the location and number of prisoners,” Shiro states. 

“I have a detailed map of the base, and all of its entry points in addition to structural weakness. Allow me to send Ezor to your group. She has knowledge of the base, reconnaissance expertise, and stealth capabilities,” Flotor adds.

“Agreed,” says Kolivan. 

“We do have the advantage, currently. They do not know we are aware of their location and believe we are about to attack the other bases,” says Flotor. “But we do not have sufficient manpower to simultaneously strike all their locations. It follows that our most logical plan of action is to use a decoy to attack one of their bases, while our concentrated task force zeroes in on Ulippa.”

“I concur,” says Nymuë. “Hostage rescue missions are the most difficult of all missions. A split second hesitation can mean the difference between a living and a dead hostage. On earth, these are highly specialized tacticians, who have trained together for months, and who have a steely resolve to kill on sight.”

“You are not averse to killing their captors?” asks Flotor in surprise. 

“No. There is no negotiation with terrorists. One can not afford ‘making mock of uniforms that guard you while you sleep.’ Some asshole named Kipling wrote that.”

“Then we send out false transmissions, detailing the time and location of our ruse, and strike before such time comes,” says Shiro definitively.

“We also feign division and confusion in such communications,” Flotor smiles, “and I know just the commander to do so.”

“Kolivan,” Nymuë says, “your tactical teams should be involved in our discussions ASAP. These strategies often evolve organically and they will have crucial insight into the situation. Two task forces are required, one for intelligence gathering, and one for the strike, operatives who are highly skilled in sniper fire and close combat. The sooner they meet with us and rehearse their strikes, the better.” 

“The paladins and Lotor should be back by then, as well, and we can finish our plan,” says Shiro.


	33. Vile Shock Infinite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My disinterest in your bullshit is so tangible you could make bricks out of it.”
> 
> ― Scott Lynch, The Republic of Thieves

After Flotor briefs Commanders Ashok and Korvak on their mission, he is pleasantly surprised to discover that the extra transceivers given to Sendak had been taken by the druids as a means of spying on the empire. Lotor had, in fact, instructed Korvak and Ashok to daily relay doctored messages to Haggar’s minions, as well as create a hostile rift between themselves.

Day 1:

Ashok: Yo, Zeus here, ‘sup K-dawg?  
Korvak: Why do you keep calling me that? What is a dawg?  
Ashok: You know, my homie, my main man, my brotha from anotha motha.  
Korvak: Have you been watching human television again? You know what? Never mind. What is your current status?  
Ashok: Haggar and Sendak just confuckulated. Y’all motherfuckers, sit yo’ bitch ass down. Bye Felicia!  
Korvak: What in the name of the emperors did you just say?  
Ashok: Oh, they were captured. Yeah, that’s right motherfuckers.

Day 2:

Korvak: Hey, Zeus.  
Ashok: What’s yo’ problem, why you callin’ me Jésus? I look Puerto Rican to you?  
Korvak: I said, hey... Zeus. Your code name?  
Ashok: You damn right. Don’t mess wit’ me K-dawg. Or I’ll shove a lightening bolt up yo’ punk ass.  
Korvak: Ugh, what is your status report?  
Ashok: We got the fleek, bae.  
Korvak: What does that even mean?  
Ashok: I dunno...

... uuuuuuh, we have the locations of the druids. Some of them are hiding on planet Reiphod. We are planning a strike soon. Peace out, Trap Queen.

Day 2: 

Ashok: Zeus reporting in.  
Korvak: Meet me at the pre-determined location. We have new guns that will take down the druids.   
Ashok: How do they work?  
Korvak: You don’t know how to shoot a gun?  
Ashok: Look, not all brothers know how to shoot guns, you racist motherfucker.  
Korvak: What? I’m the SAME race as you, you dumbass.  
Ashok: Exactly, motherfucker.

Day 3: 

Korvak: What happened to that traitor, Ashok? Was he executed?  
Ashok: That squawking backstabber got whacked, and so did emperor Lotor’s ex-generals. Bastard still owed me 5000 gak and a run naked through central command for tryna one up me.  
Korvak: Hmp... well he was more competent than you are, you squib. Can’t even shoot a gun.  
Ashok: Watch it, K-dawg.   
Korvak: I’ve told you not to call me that!  
Ashok: What about bae-dawg?  
Korvak: No! Focus on your quest, you tootsie roll.   
Ashok: What if you are my quest?  
Korvak: I’ll execute you myself if you don’t complete your mission.  
Ashok: But you complete me. 

Day 3:

Ashok: I’ve just received word from Lotor, we strike Reiphod in four quintants. That’s plenty of time to learn how to shoot those gun things. Right, bae-dawg?  
Korvak: Zeus, that is irresponsible. Why did you leave the training early?  
Ashok: I just don’t like it when you train other people, okay?  
Korvak: Look, I’m training a few people right now, I like to train around.   
Ashok: All this training is like doing push-ups on your knees. It’s just not working out. Don’t talk to me again!   
Korvak: You are the worst trainee I’ve ever had the displeasure of training. Get out of my sight.  
Ashok: I’m not in your sight, you lickspittle. Go fuck yourself on Reiphod!  
Korvak: If I see you there, I’ll shoot you myself.


	34. Dark Goals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing erases the past. There is repentance, there is atonement, and there is forgiveness. That is all, but that is enough.”  
> ― Ted Chiang, The Merchant and the Alchemist's Gate

As the cloaked galra fighter makes a treacherous descent amid a blinding blizzard, four silent reconnaissance agents are released into the drop zone, and clandestinely breach the Ulippa base. Not much time elapses before they discover the terrified Alteans huddled in groups, crowded together in multiple hangars. This was not a prison base, hence the unconventional detention centres, but given the harsh climate outside, there could be no escape. 

Another three hours are required to sweep the entire base, and to record their targets. In addition to numerous guards and sentries, the operatives count five druids, and drop a tiny package for each one. 

Ever since Nymuë called him a polyplacophoric fuckpod, Lotor had taken an interest in earth’s invertebrate animals. He thought fuckpod was an exceptionally humourous wordplay on the name gastropod, but they were also thoroughly fascinating creatures. The mathematically elegant curvature of a mollusc shell, for example, could optimize storage of anemone tendrils. He knew he would have to supplant the dark druids one day, and started developing a tech that could simultaneously incapacitate all of them. Project Anemone turned out to be a boon for his plans, and its incredible success supplied limitless possibilities. Since Ezor’s return to the empire, he had directed Flotor to have her trained in the use of its interface, an advanced eye lens. 

The smartpods, equipped with their own anemone extraction capabilities, targeted the druids stealthily and activated immediately upon contact. With a mere flicker of the eye, the operator could set anemone to stun, or to execute. Ezor subsequently directed the extermination of all but one of them because the Blade’s rapid estimation of the Alteans did not correlate with the total number expected from the colony. 

“Scutalus phase one complete. Initiate phase two,” Ezor says to her team. Two Blade teams now infiltrate the base, and eliminate any resistance they encounter. While they sweep each level, the paladins, Romelle, Coran, and Nymuë evacuate the Altean survivors into Galra ships.

“Does this seem too easy?” Nymuë asks Lotor. 

“Yes, they will likely target us after we launch and attempt to destroy all of us,” he replies and signals the team. “Initiate phase three.” With the last of the Alteans safely boarded in their ships, Zethrid, Acxa, and Flotor assemble the Sincline Robeast. To Zethrid’s ineffable delight, they raze the facility to the ground, leaving a smouldering heap. 

“That was still too easy,” Nymuë says to Lotor, as they leave the system. “They were assessing our weapons and defences weren’t they? And now they know about anemone!”

“Perhaps,” he replies with a smile, “but worry not. I have many ways to thwart them. They did not realize how long Dayak had been privy to their secrets and she has been an inestimable wealth of intel on the druids.”

Nymuë shakes her head. “You’ve really stepped up your game. I’m really impressed with how far in advance you’ve planned!”

Lotor smiles kindly as he runs his hand through her hair. “I may have had a few lessons in outmanoeuvring my enemies. If I recall, I did tell you once that my greatest source of strength is in you. I could imagine no better partner.”

There was so much she wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat. He had come so far since she first met him. As she silently watched him pilot their ship, she thought about how, for the last god knows how many millennia, he had been forced to do the same damn thing, yet those habits were never so ingrained in him that he couldn’t change. She knew human adults who were set in their ways after a mere thirty years. He was already a splendid, magnificent person, and all it took was a little bit of love and patience to coax it out of him. She had to turn away from him to hide her tears when she thought of how little empathy and decency was required to turn the rudder of his ship and steer him away from the interminable misery he had been subject to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smartpod interface was based on the new smart contact lenses in development right now.


	35. Sin and Astonishment

Relocating and housing thousands of Alteans was no small feat. Olkarion was the most logical stop-gap solution; its defences were heavily fortified, their superior engineers could quickly raise temporary shelters, and they were the interplanetary hub for refugees. Lotor had sequestered the assistance of the Olkari leaders and local populace without any hindrance, to Flotor’s amazement. Of all of the planets within the empire, this was one of the friendliest to the Galra. As it turned out, the group of children Nymuë and Lotor had befriended belonged to several high ranking officials and diplomats; subsequently, word of their kindness had spread like wildfire, even softening the battle-hardened hearts of many refugees. 

With the announcement of their impending arrival, the Olkari pulled out all the stops. As the displaced Alteans were settled into their new living arrangements, and were assigned Olkari sponsors to help them integrate into their new society, a grand banquet was held in honour of their guests. The members of the Blade and Lotor’s soldiers were soundly astonished by the graciousness of their hosts and the total absence of racial antipathy. 

Hunk was having the time of his life. After a long and gruelling day, all he could have asked for was this feast. Following a few alcoholic beverages, Lance grabbed the nearest Olkari guitar and performed several wobbly renditions of Tom Jones songs. To their utter delight, Shiro joined in their karaoke night and Commander Ashok sent the room into a thunderous applause and outrageous laughter with his Carlton dance. While Lotor excused himself to speak with the leaders, the rest of the paladins were happy to mingle and relax. To Allura’s deep disappointment, she couldn’t find Flotor anywhere. After several fruitless attempts to track him down, she resigned herself to watching Lance’s ridiculous antics. Things began to go south after Romelle downed several shots of what were arguably her first alcoholic drinks ever, and the paladins found themselves contending with their first exceptionally strong Altean drunken fist fighter. 

When the merriment began, Flotor had emerged disguised as a hoplite soldier and slowly took it all in from a distance. He remained, of course, classified information, and it was still fairly amusing to him that no one recognized him. This was a pleasant way to end a physically and mentally taxing day; it had been ages since he had attended any sort of celebration.

“Are you enjoying yourself, soldier?” asks a gentle voice behind him.

“I am now that you are here,” he replies without turning around as he feels her take his hand. He pulls her farther back into the shadows, and draws her into a fierce kiss. “I have wanted you all day,” he whispers as he pushes her against the wall. He was kissing her again when they were met with several horrified miniature gasps. 

“Why are you doing that?!”

Nymuë and Flotor break apart to discover themselves under the scrutiny of a familiar group of children.

“That’s not emperor Lotor!” One of them breaks into dramatic tears. “Why, why you hate him now?”

Nymuë was about to crouch down when Flotor did so instead. “Shhh.... let me tell you something,” he says secretively as he removes his helmet. There was another round of gasps. “I am hiding right now so you cannot tell anybody, okay?” The children were so enthralled they did not even question his motives. They simply threw themselves at him and asked for more stories. The small company found an unused boardroom and there, Flotor told an incomparably fantastic fairy tale. He was a superbly imaginative storyteller and held the attentive silence of several small children for twenty minutes. He even drew pictures for them which were thoroughly impressive in their own right. Nymuë had no idea he was also a proficient artist. 

With the evening drawing to a close, they reluctantly said their good-byes. There were many chubby little arms that encircled his neck, full of gratitude that they had indeed kept their promise to return for a visit, and little wet kisses planted on his cheeks. 

“They are about as affable and endearing as your pet dragon,” he says with amusement after they leave.

Nymuë laughs as she walks with him. “Hey, you are an immensely talented storyteller and artist. You never told me you could draw.”

“It would be an unpardonable offence to live as long as I have and fail to appreciate the finer things in life. I have spent centuries perfecting my life-like renderings.”

She giggles at his hyperbole. “Indeed.”

“Though neither have you mentioned your own artistry,” he says suddenly as they enter their quarters. Flotor undresses her and runs his hand over body. “These are your own designs, are they not?” She can’t answer him with the flood of ecstasy that comes with his touch. 

They are interrupted again, but by Lotor this time, who shuts the door indiscriminately and exclaims, “If you believe I am permitting you to keep her to yourself tonight...”

“On the contrary,” Flotor replies as he draws her into his lap and feverishly fondles her. Lotor was taken aback by how arousing it was to watch her like this. “We are going to pleasure her until she cannot walk tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright you sinners... just need a few days for the next chapter. And to think Nymuë was originally supposed to be Lotor’s platonic friend. As they say in French, ouate de phoque. (Cuz it sounds like WTF. But not exactly like WTF.)


	36. Sin and Astonishment 2

If Lotor was going to be honest with himself, he would have thought what he had with Nymuë was the height of perfection. The chemistry they had spanning every aspect was incomparable, and any of his previous experiences utterly paled in comparison. She knew of his weaknesses even before he did, and her creativity in the bedroom left him wanting for nothing. He couldn’t have imagined there was more awaiting him until he came home from his mission, and experienced his first role play with her. Tonight, he was an anticipant athirst for a reprisal of her role.

Nymuë whispered to Flotor while she was in his lap; he subsequently gave her a kiss, relinquished his hold on her, and headed to the bath. As the hot water ran over him, he let out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. 

Lotor, who was leaning against the wall nearby, said plainly, “You are in love with her.”

Flotor curled his upper lip and looked over at him, “How do you know?”

“I know because I have loved her since the first day I met her. She also loves you in return. What are you going to do when it is time to leave?”

He sighed again. “It is a strange occurrence that she does so at all. I do not yet believe myself capable of feeling the same toward her counterpart in my own reality...” After a long pause, he finally admits, “she did not want me to leave. But neither can I abandon my duties and responsibilities. I must not allow that witch to obtain Voltron.”

“Would you want to assume the throne again in your own reality?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“If we assisted you in defeating Haggar and her druids in your reality, would you prefer to stay there or return here?”

“Why would you go to such lengths for me?”

“You make her happy. And you can protect her when I am not around. You have already done so superbly and I am in your debt.”

“I am fairly certain any such debt never existed, given the fact that all of you saved my life.” Flotor was certain he was the happiest being alive in that moment. 

“There are several more things you should perhaps be aware of. One fifth of her lifespan has already elapsed. Nymuë has ten decaphoebs of optimal fertility remaining and no more than one century to live.”

His elation was suddenly cleaved in two. “What did you say?” He asks incredulously as he stumbles out of the shower and fumbles his towel.

“It is another reason I would ask you to remain with us. I cannot oversee this empire, raise children, and research methods to prolong her life at the same time. Time is exceptionally short.”

“Then I will assume a new mission with all of you here,” Flotor grins. “Besides, my wizard is already at level twelve and I would prefer not to lose my progress.” A fleeting suspicion passes through his mind as he asks, “You intended this from the beginning?”

Lotor smiles but does not answer. Instead he nods toward the door says, “Her name is Yuki, and she gives a type of sexual massage exclusive to earth. Her rules have but one stipulation; they prohibit any penetration.”

Flotor smirked. He would find a way around her ‘rules.’

Exiting the bathroom, they are greeted with sweet, floral notes and subtle camphoraceous tones that quiet their senses and hush away any tension. Standing in the muted light of their spacious quarters, Yuki demurely smiles, and bows to them. “Irasshaimase, okyakusama. Dozo, kochira e,” (Welcome, honoured guests. This way, please) she says as she leads the way. 

There was a deliberate elegance to her appearance that Flotor had never seen before. Her upswept chignon of curled midnight silk, the jewelled shine of her ruby lips, and the beautifully insecure wrap of her obi seduced every intemperate impulse within him. There was something about the silent shuffle of her steps and the grace of her movements, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. 

He waited and watched from a lounge chaise as she removed Lotor’s robe and laid him down face first on a parallel bed. There was a soothing tide to the ebb and flow of her movements, as her body swayed with the sweeping of her hands. The rhapsodic lilt of her speech was like the tripping and falling of a babbling brook, leaving him tranquil and untroubled. As Lotor sighed his contentment, in a single motion she moved between them and brought an uninterrupted stream of massage to his alternate self. She allowed him to touch her as much as he desired, as he slipped his hand beneath her robe and stroked her soft skin. Now that they were thoroughly relaxed, she brings both of them onto their backs.

Lotor pulls her over to him and tugs at her obi. “You know I want more than that.” Her short robe falls easily to the ground. She was only wearing a lacy black thong and his gaze wandered down to admire her luscious body.

“Hai, goshujinsama, (yes, my lord)” she replies meekly. Flotor watches slack-jawed as she climbs astride him and pleasures him into oblivion. How she knew to fulfill multiple fantasies of his in one go was beyond him. With her hands slick with massage oil, she strokes his manhood as she traces her hot, wet tongue across his upper body. Lotor has trouble finding any words as she floods him with a euphoric high. Yuki maintains her timidity as she takes him harder and faster. “Ii deshō ka? (Is this alright?)” He groans his approval. How her voice could be so innocent and sensual sent a torrid arousal coursing through him. As she feels him approach his threshold and throb in her hand, she vigorously strokes the frenulum at the base of his shaft with her other hand. He is completely engulfed by an Elysian wave of ecstasy and comes all over her. He even forgets her stage name and calls out Nymuë instead.

“How... how do you even know how to do that?” he pants breathlessly. He didn’t even know he had a weak spot there. She gives him a shy smile and runs her hand over his exquisitely toned body. 

Flotor seizes the opportunity to offer a cloth but says with a devilish smile, “Allow me.” Before she can offer her gratitude, however, he silences her with a kiss and tears away her black lace. She gasps in shock, and tries to protest but he leads her to the bath and motions for Lotor to follow. 

He does not allow her to wash herself, neither does he allow her to raise much objection. “I know the rules,” he says as he touches her between her legs, “but your body seems intent on telling me otherwise. You want me inside you.” 

“Dame, dame... (you musn’t)” she whispers as she shakes her head, though the incandescent passion in his touch and his voice had already blinded her resolve and bound her defences. 

“Shhh.... some rules were meant to be broken,” he says ardently. He picks her up and sets her on the elevated lip of the bath. In an instant, Lotor is in front of her and has her arms restrained behind her. This was a huge shock to her and she struggles in vain to break free. 

As Lotor bends her forward, his partner caresses her backside and rubs her starfished entrance. “Yuki, no one has taken you here before, have they?”

“Ya...Yamete kudasai... (please stop)” she says weakly and wriggles futilely.

He inserts a finger into her, causing her to whimper and tense around him. He doesn’t linger for long however. Yuki forcibly feels a much larger intrusion and cries out her startlement. “Yamete! (Stop)”

“Fuck, how are you this tight?” she hears him groan. He moves slowly in her, being careful not to hurt her, but even this causes him to moan in pleasure. He pulls her upright and lifts her in place to allow Lotor to spread her legs and penetrate her. This was too much for her. She arches her back and cries out again. 

As she wrapped her arms and legs around Lotor, the fullness and pressure within her was overwhelming. He kisses her neck, and asks her softly, “Do you like this? Do you want more?”

She buries her face into his shoulder and nods her surrender. 

“You’ll have to beg for it then.”

“Onegai, gaman dekinai,” (please, I can’t wait any longer) she pleads as she abandons formalities. 

The ocean of pleasure she felt as they thrust harder into her was indescribable, plunging her into a sea of bliss. As hot swells of passion came harder and faster, she was rocked by a sudden seismic wave. “I-Iku!” (I’m coming) Both Lotors were seized by a torrential fire as she clenched them tightly, and found a hot release within her. 

Nymuë fell asleep quickly between her two lovers that night, curled on her side. 

Lotor mentions casually as he turns on his side, “That was three separate fantasies of mine, that she somehow knew without ever any mention of them.”

Flotor nuzzles into her hair, as he draws her close, “Four for me.”


	37. Prince of Persuasion

Lotor was the first to awaken to the sun-kissed warmth of the new morning. There was a deep calm within the golden rays filtering into the room, and the aromatic tincture lingering in the air. As he runs his fingers through Nymuë’s sleek, sable tresses, he was amused to think how he and his alternate self had the same fetish; it was apparent how much Flotor adored her raven locks. This was not a hair colour he had seen before and it seemed to be unique to humanity. Of the six humans he knew, three of them had jet-black hair. Lotor sighed. Things had been so chaotic lately, he never had an opportunity to give her the comb he had made for her. He would have liked to see her wear it atop her bun last night. 

She stirs under his touch and pulls herself closer to him. He was about to kiss her when she fully awakens and draws a panicked breath. It was loud enough to rouse Flotor from his light slumber, as well.

“Are you alright?” he asks gently, still stroking her hair. 

“I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. I took it for granted because you assumed the throne so quickly. Do you think Haggar or her druids still had access to the central database after you assumed the throne?”

“It is a possibility. It did take some time to change all the passwords. Why do you ask?”

“Could they have breached any records after clone Shiro synced our intelligence with Galra central command?”

“I would have to review the timelines to know for certain.” Lotor pauses to think for a moment. “If Haggar was controlling him, she would have known exactly when to attempt such a hack. Ah, I see where your concern lies. The greatest threat to her power aside from Voltron is the Blade. You are asking if she had access to the locations of their secret bases?”

“Yes... oh my god, why didn’t I think of it before?”

“You need not worry, they will be alright, even in the event of an attack.”

“But why? How?”

“The anemone smartpods were but one of my adaptations of your invention. The Blade are fully equipped to deal with the power of the druids. When Pidge and Hunk successfully synced Altean and Galran technology, I was able to apply invisibility to anemone. Key blade members at each outpost have been trained in the usage of this program as it is the single most effective defence we have against their powers.”

“Oh,” she breathes a sigh of relief. “I should have known you would be so many steps ahead of them.”

“Our next task is to interrogate the captured druid on the whereabouts of the remaining Alteans.”

“No need for interrogation. Just let Commander Ashok and I handle it.”

“Do you two always discuss military strategy first thing in the morning?” Flotor asks. Lotor shakes his head and gets up to go to the washroom. Nymuë smacks him in the arm and moves to get up as well. 

She feels herself pulled back down, however, as he subdues her with all of his weight. He cups his hand over her mouth and whispers in her ear, “I should like to meet Yuki again and fuck her senseless... and I shall not take no for an answer.”

Commander Ashok was already awaiting their arrival when the three of them emerged from their room. If the Lotors weren’t his superiors, he would have smacked the two of them. It only took one glance at the way Nymuë so gingerly walked to figure out what was going on. He also had a feeling it was mostly Flotor’s fault. Ashok had come from a fairly large Galra family, a rarity in the empire, and he had had the immense fortune of having a supportive, humour-filled home. He had come to think of his band mates as his own siblings, and he was going to let those maypole-brained impudences know he was onto them, emperors or not. 

He and Nymuë would rehearse a strategy speak with the druid before breakfast, while the rest of the group headed to a private dining hall.


	38. Coran’s Epic Yarn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Patience yields focus.”
> 
> \- Joker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini game time!

After an appetizing breakfast, Pidge excitedly exclaims with her mouth still full of pastries, “OMG, Lotor, those kids were raving about the pictures you drew. They were amazing! You have to draw my M&M character!”

Lotor furrowed his brows. Even Nymuë did not know about his secret hobby but he quickly looked over at Flotor who was sipping his tea and knowingly avoiding eye contact. “I was not present for that exchange. It must have been him,” he says. 

“Oh, oh, I would like one too!” Hunk says with a massive grin. 

“That’s amazing,” gushes Allura as she leans into him and slides closer. “Will you make one for me, as well?” 

As Ashok and Nymuë approach the table, Flotor pauses momentarily to look at her tenderly. “If I may defer your attention for a moment, the better artist is Nymuë,” he grins as he leans forward. In doing so, he inadvertently distances himself from Allura, to her irritation. 

“So who’s going to draw our characters?” asks Lance.

“Hey, I say we go old school and draw straws,” suggests Hunk, before Nymuë can even protest Flotor’s comment.

Allura groans and buries her face into her arms. “But I’m terrible at drawing.” 

“This is true,” explains Coran. “One time she tried to draw her Nan-nan, and it ended up looking like a Flan-bil-diplor,” he says in a falsetto voice. “Her Nan laughed and then cried, and then she slipped on her tears, knocking over several people who then spilled our dinner on the floor. Tragic, really.”

As everyone is giving Coran sceptical glances, Ashok leans his elbow on Nymuë’s shoulder, draws in a seductive breath through his teeth and blows a kiss at Flotor. “Lotor, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and all the paladins burst into uncontrollable laughter. Both Lotors were speechless and Allura was livid. What did he mean, ‘YOUR French girl’?!


	39. Grand Theft Altean 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Being a practiced liar doesn't mean you have a powerful imagination. Many good liars have no imagination at all; it's that which gives their lies such wide-eyed conviction.”  
> ― Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass

“You are going to allow her to interrogate a druid!?” Allura asks in disbelief. “But you already possess our Altean memory preservation technology. Why not extract them that way?”

“Time is of the essence,” Flotor replies. “Her use of subterfuge with Haggar was singularly successful. Nymuë has a substantial understanding of the psyche and was able to extract the necessary information in a matter of dobashes.”

“Her older brother, Hadrien, is finishing his doctorate in neuroscience,” Pidge says. “She told me he has her edit all of his papers and theses. She is quite familiar with the research he undertakes.”

Flotor nodded in consideration of this revelation. Several of the few humans he knew were veritable geniuses in their respective fields. Though they did not possess the physical strength of the Galra or the life-giving powers of Alteans, their ingenuity, creativity, and exceptional intelligence set them apart from other species. They were also kind, hospitable, and incredibly funny. He was very fond of his new friends and he was looking forward to meeting Nymuë’s family, as well. 

“I would have liked to see that,” Lotor chuckles. “It is the first time I have heard of anyone outwitting Haggar.” 

Nymuë pokes him. “Except for when you captured her. Stop being so modest.” He responds by taking her hand and kissing her head. 

Ezor laughs. She had never seen any display of affection by Lotor, who was always so detached and calculating. “Come on, you guys, let’s see these tricks already.”

Commander Ashok was impressed with Nymuë’s change in demeanour as they approached the prisoner. Her manner was suddenly irreproachable and her gait assumed a military brusqueness. There was no trace of the obvious pain and discomfort she was exhibiting earlier. 

Nymuë stands silently, with a neutral expression, observing their captive. Commander Ashok paces a few steps, hands behind his back. After many long uncomfortable moments, he addressed his captors to deceive them. 

“I’ll tell you where the remaining Alteans are. We are...”

“Achoo!” Ashok sneezes loudly.

“...using....”

“AHEM,” he clears his throat loudly and coughs.

“...a process...”

A loud bang and clattering interrupts them as Ashok slips and knocks a metal com device on the floor.

“We are using a...”

Clang! Ashok fumbles the device to the floor again.

“A process called auto...”

“Oh, I know the answer!” Ashok exclaims. “Is it autocracy!? No? The... uh, Autobahn!”

“You guys like driving on a road in Germany?” Nymuë gasps.

“No...”

“Autochtone?” tries Ashok.

“Are you French?” she squeals.

“No,” replies the irritated druid, “auto...”

“You guys are autoerotic,” interrupts Ashok.

“No...”

“Autofellatio?” asks Nymuë.

“NO! AUTO....”

“You want my autograph?”

“AUTO...”

“Oh, Das Auto... you guys like Volkswagon, I get it.”

“WE ARE USING AUTONOMOUS EXTRACTION ON ARUS!” The druid exclaims in exasperation, realizing a split second too late that he was, in fact, the one who was deceived. 

“Thank you, for your continued cooperation,” says Nymuë as she turns to leave. Commander Ashok turns briefly to smirk.

As Nymuë and Ashok approach their friends, they could hear peals of laughter from the observation deck. Flotor was laughing so hard he was leaning against the console. As soon as he sees her, he draws her into his arms, and continues to laugh into her shoulder. Pidge, whose family actually owned several VWs, was writhing on the ground. Lance, who couldn’t stop shaking with mirth, manages to give Ashok a high five.

When everyone could breathe again, Lotor asks, “Is that an actual interrogation tactic?”

Nymuë laughs. “Indeed it is one of the sixteen approaches used by Military Intelligence Interrogators trained in Strategic Debriefing at Fort Huachuca, Arizona. We just put our own spin on it.”

“Well done, both of you. Shall we make preparations to depart for Arus, then?”


	40. Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.” - Heraclitus

Meanwhile, on a secret base on Arus...

Druid 1: Ulippa has fallen. Lotor has rescued the Alteans. Our intelligence indicates they have relocated them to Olkarion.  
Druid 2: Are they still on Olkarion?  
Druid 3: Yes. Lotor has Voltron, his Sincline Robeast, and the Blade with him. Central Command is ours for the taking. Our operative has Haggar’s location.  
Druid 1: What of the preparations on Reiphod? They are planning their strike in two quintants.  
Druid 3: The Komar Robeast will annhilate them when they attempt to breach the abandoned base.  
Druid 2: The Blade are spread thin. Many of them were dispatched to Ulippa and are now assisting on Olkarion. We attack Central Command and the Blade headquarters in two vargas.

Concurrently, in a strategy room on Olkarion, sit the members of the blade of Marmora, the Olkari leaders with a squadron of elite fighters, and Team Voltron to engage in the planning of their next strike. After a brief round of introductions, Lotor leads the discussion as he divulges their most recent intel. Alternate Lotor is in disguise, sitting next to Ashok among the Galra soldiers.

“Hey, I haven’t met you before,” whispers a soldier behind him. 

“Just call me Sephiroth, Seph for short,” he says discreetly before anyone can ask him anymore questions. Ashok stifles a laugh. Seph was glad he could sit back and simply listen. As his gaze wandered to where Nymuë was standing, he was having difficulty thinking of anything other than her naked, limber body lying under him, the lustrous waves of silky hair splayed beneath her, the softness of her... Ashok smacked him out of his reverie to pay attention. There were some snickers behind him. This new guy better shape up, they thought. Everyone knew better than to openly ogle the emperor’s betrothed. Someone should probably tell him what happened to Thrakol. 

“Our interrogation of the druid has provided us with the location of the remaining Alteans. We will need to first send operatives to gather intelligence on their exact location on Arus,” begins Lotor. 

“I already have the intelligence teams ready,” says Kolivan. “Our previous deployment was an optimal configuration given the fact that we had the element of surprise on Ulippa.”

Lotor nods to Nymuë, as she steps forward. “Our circumstances necessitate a change in strategy this time. We must assume they will be ready for us. Given their limited numbers, the most likely tactic they will employ is guerilla warfare. They will ingratiate themselves with the local populace and there will be limited resistance given the residents are highly superstitious and prone to deception. From strategic vantage points, they will then launch small-scale ambush attacks to separate, confuse, and scatter our forces. It is highly likely the locals will be used as bait and as hostages as well.”

“This is a mission that requires the utmost precision or life will be lost. We will move ahead with intelligence gathering in one varga. Once we know what we are dealing with, we will plan the next step,” Shiro says. 

“Kolivan, are your forces ready for a druid attack on your bases?” Nymuë asks.

“Yes, although we do not yet have intel on where or when they intend to strike.”

Nymuë paces around for a bit. “If I were them, I would attack your headquarters and Central Command at the same time. And I would do it right now.” There was some mild panic in the room.

“Why do you believe this?”

“Because most of your forces are here, including you. If they overtake HQ, they can access the information they do not yet have: passwords, secret locations, operative identification.”

“I can issue orders to abandon the base and wipe our intel at any time.”

“What about Central Command?” interrupts Hunk. “What if they free Haggar?”

“I have already made provisions for that possibility,” Lotor says calmly. “Rest assured that they will be unable to do so.”

“May I make a proposal?” Nymuë asks to the agreement of everyone. 

“Tactics and strategy go hand-in-hand. As you are all aware, an enemy that is backed into a corner will fight desperately, and may be capable of overwhelming you with sheer force. An enemy that believes he still has a ray of hope, or an escape route will be less inclined to do something rash. War is as much about deception as it is about psychological manipulation. If you wrench that hope out of his hands at the eleventh hour, you have won the psychological war. Make the druids believe they’ve defeated you at your HQ. Give them fake intel. And when we have them cornered, when we’ve defeated their Komar Robeast, and they try to bargain with their last shred of hope, we crush it into a black hole sun.”

As the team converged on a new plan, and hammered out their strategy, Flotor watched Nymuë with ardour and sighed. Her intelligence was so irresistibly attractive. They were so close to achieving true peace in this reality. He was looking forward to travelling, raising a family, laughing all the time, reading literature, making love to her... He feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, just a word of advice, since you’re new around here. Last time someone tried to hit on the emperor’s girlfriend, he was exiled to the fringes. Died right off the bat. Don’t pull a Thrakol,” says the Galra soldier. He couldn’t believe the brazen staring of the new guy. Probably wasn’t even paying attention the whole time. Everyone already knows she’s super smart. Unlike this doorknob named Seph. 

Ashok laughs and smacks Flotor upside the head, knocking his helmet askew.


	41. Anemone Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”  
> ― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

A contingent of druids furtively infiltrate Central Command via a hangar left open for them by their informant. The six of them split up into pairs, and converge upon their respective targets. Two would seek to destroy the record room, two would rescue Haggar, and two would kill as many Galra as they could, to weaken Lotor’s grip on the empire. Should they meet their spy, he would meet his end as well; he no longer served any purpose as far as they were concerned. 

As the two approach Haggar’s cell, they can see she is obtunded, and her level of alertness is depressed by the crimson tentacles that have seized her body. Lowering the energy shield and shutting down the anemone program from a nearby console, they watch her drop to the ground with her back to them. Two silver shells drop from her robe and roll to their feet. Before they can utter a word, the anemone tentacles have sprung forth and incapacitated them. Their quintessence is so quickly sapped that they cannot summon any strength to teleport. Dayak turns around and unveils her face. “Hello, boys. Is it me you’re looking for?” she says insidiously before she drains them of their life energy. “You rue the day you cross Blood Emperor Lotor,” is the last thing they hear before their consciousness is permanently extinguished. 

The two druids heading to the record room pause for a moment before they enter. They had encountered little resistance en route, save for a few sentries, and the entire place seemed to be abandoned. Of course, most of them were on Olkarion, but they still had expected more warm bodies to exsanguinate. Overly confident in their druidic abilities, they proceed heedlessly and fail to notice the smartpods awaiting them on either side of the entrance. They realize too late that the tables have turned, as their quintessence is bled dry.

“What is... this?” one of them is able to manage. As their vision fades to black, they faintly register, “K-dawg here. Say hello to emperor Zarkon for us, will ya?”

The last two druids were growing increasingly suspicious as they combed the empty halls in search of anyone to exterminate. Other than several sentries, they too, encountered no one else. 

“There’s no one here. They were expecting us!”

“What is that? I just saw someone run down that way!”

The two of them enter the training deck to see a couple figures dash toward cover in the back of the room. As they pursue their targets, they are suddenly thrown backward by an invisible barrier. Someone has activated the invisible training maze. As they come to their senses and move to stand, they are at once ensnared by a searing, scarlett web. 

“Well, that wasn’t very much fun,” Zethrid says unenthusiastically. “You guys suck at this.”

“These are the last ones,” says Acxa. “Today marks the end of the darkness that has ruled for far too long.” As she increases the extraction power of anemone, the druids breathe their last. 

The siege at the Blade of Marmora headquarters required a much more delicate operation, in order to successfully carry out their ruse. Krolia lead the charge, as she stalked the six druids dispatched to their location. It wasn’t long before a fierce confrontation ensued, as the first two druids attacked several Blades. One of their own was injured by an energy attack. While they were distracted by the battle, Krolia unleashed two smartpods and paralyzed her first victims. She quickly extracted their quintessence and moved on. The remaining Blades took the bodies to a secure location, dressed them in their own fatigues, and threw them back into the hall. 

“We need assistance, Krolia, we are pinned down!” she hears through her ear piece.

“I’m heading to your location,” she says. As she approaches the imbroglio, she is suddenly propelled forward by a powerful blast, and strikes her head against the wall. Krolia struggles to regain her senses, but a pervasive vertigo refuses to relinquish its stranglehold on her. She only sees a blurry hand summoning a crackling sphere of dark energy before she collapses. 

The druid doesn’t have time to finish his spell, however, before a blade pierces his chest. 

“Krolia! Are you alright?”

“Keith? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Voltron,” she says as she clutches her head.

“I’ll make it back in time, don’t worry. Use Wolf to help you get the rest of the Blades to the east hangar where the black lion is. Nymuë predicted they would blow up our ships to prevent our escape. That’s why I’m here.” He was glad Lotor had sent him to even the odds. He leaves his wolf with her as he runs to assist his comrades-in-arms. Without anemone, unfortunately, the battle intensifies. These druids were stronger than the ones they had fought previously and even with a four-to-one advantage, they still reached an impasse. As a dark streak of energy strikes its intended target, a Blade member collapses in pain. The druid disappears, leaving his assailants confused and panicked. Keith summons a focused calm and channels his energy into an alternate plane. The druid sees his attacker has stopped. Keith can almost see him. Druid flies toward him in a frenzy. He can sense it, and blurred images sharpen into one. His eyes fly open and his blade strikes true. An expulsive energy rocks the battered team as the druid autoimplodes. 

They are suddenly knocked down by a supersonic blast, and again as shock waves plough through the base. “Everyone follow me!” Keith yells. “They’re destroying all our ships, we need to get to the Black Lion!”

Keith and his team are able to reach the Lion just as Krolia approaches with the remaining members. “Is this everyone?” he yells.

“Without your wolf, it would have been impossible,” Krolia says. “We are all here.” 

“And the fake intel?”

“It has been uploaded into our databases.”

“Good, let’s go!” exclaims Keith enthusiastically. 

As they head inside, Krolia is surprised to see Romelle there as well. “Romelle, what are you doing here?” 

“I’m a medic in training; Commander Korvak and Nymuë have been teaching me everything they know. But what I cannot yet do with conventional medicine, I can compensate for with the life-giving abilities I now possess. Lotor sent me with Keith to tend to the wounded.”

Krolia sets her hand gently on Romelle’s shoulder and smiles. “I’ll help you.” She thought back to the time they helped Korvak stabilize Nymuë. After they had methodically triaged the injured members and treated them in order of acuity, Krolia asks, “Did you become interested in this after we helped Commander Korvak save Nymuë?”

Romelle stopped for a moment and took Krolia aside. “I wanted to do this because I saw how much of a difference she made by her kindness to others and I wanted to do the same with my life.” She had to pause again, because of the tears that threatened to choke her voice. “We both lost our brothers but were able to find hope and comfort in helping others. I’m not supposed to tell anyone but Lotor became a bit teary when he found out what I wanted to do. He’s been so apologetic to me I’ve had to tell him to stop. I don’t think he has stopped beating himself up over the mistakes he has made.”

Krolia just nodded and drew Romelle into a hug.


	42. Romance, Romance, Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Things are going round and round in my head--or maybe my head is going round and round in things.”  
> ― Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

After their debriefing, Flotor heads off by himself to think. The impending battles were the least of his worries. He had every confidence that they could win this war. What troubled him was his new task; Lotor wanted him to research a method to prolong Nymuë’s life. 

As he paced back and forth, he felt his heart sink. He knew her answer before even speaking it out loud. She would never allow him to use quintessence experiments in a bid to lengthen her lifespan. If she became corrupted, an immortal being of her intelligence would be unstoppable. He shouldn’t even be considering it as an option. He ran his hands through his hair. What were his options then? Quintessence was life, that much he knew. He didn’t have the luxury of the centuries of research he had expended to search for Oriande, for instance. 

He had just found the greatest treasure of his life, and it was already slipping out of his grasp. He leans his head against the window and pounds his fist into the wall. 

He feels her take him around the waist and lean her head into his back. “What’s bothering you?” she asks softly. 

He draws a deep breath and turns around to hold her close to him. 

“Lotor asked me to remain with all of you after we ensure Haggar’s defeat in my own reality.” As Nymuë clasps her hands to her mouth in shock, he continues. “He asked me to research a method to prolong your life, but I do not know where to begin. I am well aware that I cannot use quintessence experiments on you in the event you become corrupted.” He runs his hand over his face in distress. “I probably should not even be speaking of such possibilities to you. I hope I have not angered you.”

He is a bit surprised by the compassion and and understanding he sees in her face. “I am not angry in the least, silly. Just take some deep cleansing breaths and don’t worry about it.”

“You are acting like Aeolyn when she spoke to me of the dragon’s lair. What is it that you are thinking?”

“Do you know why you age so slowly compared to your fellow Galra?”

“I was exposed to the quintessence field while I was still in the womb. I believe it is integral to my DNA.”

“I would have to do more research on the actual mechanism but I believe quintessence fulfills the role of an enzyme called telomerase. There are certain creatures called jellyfish on earth that are basically immortal. The reason is because telomerase repairs the DNA sequences called telomeres with each cell division for the duration of their lives. However, when humans and arguably all other animals age, telomerase becomes inactive during our adulthood. With each cell division, our telomeres become shorter, until we die. You find a way to activate telomerase, you’ve discovered the fountain of youth. Pretty simple, actually.”

“Oh,” he sighs with relief, “I had not known this. I should have simply asked you from the beginning.”

“I think that’s something both of you are getting used to. I know how long you’ve had to resort to deception to achieve your goals, and how those principles were seared into you. But I’d like you to remember that you always have a safe place to express your fears and worries without threat of condemnation or contempt.”

He smiles at her with immense gratitude and holds her tightly to him. This changed everything. He could focus with renewed vigour on their tasks at hand without distraction now. There was a solution within grasp. 

“How you do you have so much kindness within you?”

“It’s just called empathy, silly,” she giggles as she smacks him. “But maybe it’s called love, too,” she says as she pulls him into a tender kiss. 

In that moment, the Galra soldier who had tapped Flotor on the shoulder caught a glimpse of their illicit kiss. As he gasped in shock, and clasped his hands to his mouth, Ashok approaches him, and says, “Yeah, don’t worry about it, I’ve got this. He’s gonna get his ass kicked.”


	43. Larksiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I'm around you, I kind of feel like I'm on drugs. Not that I do drugs. Unless you do drugs, in which case I do them all the time. All of them.”
> 
> \- Bryan Lee O’Malley, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

After the Blade Intelligence operatives returned from their mission, another strategy meeting was called to order. By this time, Keith and his team members were present as well, lending to a greater wealth of intel and experience. 

“We should have no difficulty to infiltrate their base since we have such a large pool of operatives and soldiers to draw from,” states Commander Ladnok.

Nymuë looks to Lotor to answer but he merely smiles and returns her gaze. 

“During the Vietnam war,” she replies, “even though the Americans had greater weaponry, more advanced technology, and a larger trained military contingent, the guerrillas successfully repelled their attacks because of one advantage: knowledge of the land. The primitive traps they set out, for example, wooden spikes laden with dung, grossly incapacitated soldiers with infection. They knew prime locations from which to launch ambush attacks and then flee back into the depths of the jungle. The Americans lost and withdrew from that war. Be forewarned that arrogance can lead to defeat. We are currently at a severe disadvantage because the druids have the Arusians on their side. They may be a ‘less advanced species’ by certain standards, but it would be prudent not to underestimate them, or we risk losing many lives.”

As many heads nodded in agreement or contemplation, many of the Galra soldiers present wished they had paid more attention to guerrilla style warfare while they were in training. The Galra had always been so powerful, they could overrun a planet by sheer force. Guerilla tactics was a boring segment they had glossed over because saving lives was never a priority. Now that this was a hostage rescue operation, everything became a foreign concept. Where did emperor Lotor find her, they wondered. He had been wise to ally with her, otherwise, she would have brought their day of reckoning as an enemy. Rumour had it she was the mastermind behind Sendak’s demise. The Olkari soldiers, on the other hand, were well-versed in such tactics, having been forced to used them for the duration of the Galra occupation. 

“Then we need more knowledge of their land and capabilities, but time is not on our side,” replies Keith.

“We may have more time than we think,” Shiro says. “As we saw in our previous hostage rescue, surprise and deception are two of the keys to success. They believe we are striking Reiphod in two quintants. That is the distraction that we need; their forces will be concentrated on that attack, and we can mount our offensive strategy in that time.”

“The Arusians themselves have a particular deference to a fire deity,” begins Lotor. “Of all of their weapons, the use of fire may be the greatest threat they pose to us.”

“So, like, do they use Molotov cocktails, or something?” asks Hunk. 

“Yeah,” says Pidge. “I asked some of them about their sacrificial fire after they tried to sacrifice themselves. It ignited like that because they have some sort of sticky, flammable substance. They also use it to launch at their enemies.”

“Molotov cocktails are a weapon of choice for guerilla warfare on earth as well,” says Shiro. 

“If we merely avoid a few flaming balls of fire, we should be alright to storm the place,” insists Ladnok.

“When the Roman navy, which was part of the Byzantine empire on earth, was off fighting the Venetians, the Russians decided to storm the capital because they assumed it was defenceless. With the entire Russian fleet at the shores of Constantinople, the only thing the city had was Greek fire, a type of primitive napalm. They loaded ten ships with it and destroyed the entire Russian navy in one go. Sticky, flammable substances must not be underestimated,” Nymuë says gravely. Just when the attendees were feeling defeated with this news, she adds, “However, may I direct your attention to our Olkari friends. I believe they are well acquainted with both guerilla tactics and expertise in fire fighting.”

Flotor looked at his counterpart and remarked how he was doing pretty well maintaining his regal composure. He looked back to the dark-haired beauty at Lotor’s side and admired the fit of her uniform. It accentuated all the right curves. He wondered if there was a way to remove Nymuë from the discussions for a quick romp. Their quarters were on the other side of the complex. Perhaps he could find an empty room nearby... 

Ryner nods in acknowledgement and takes the stage. “During our time living in the forest under Galra occupation, one of the great threats to our abodes was lightning and fire. We developed an endothermic flame retardant that extinguishes fire on contact. Our homes are coated in this material. Our lieutenants can subsequently instruct in the usage of it, as well as guide your team on the intricacies of guerilla tactics.”

“Thank you, Ryner. I cannot overstate the value of your contributions,” Lotor says appreciatively. “Nymuë has brought data on various planets she believed could have housed additional Alteans; your lieutenants may use the geographic data we have brought in addition to the intel obtained by the Blade to flesh out a strategy. Are there any questions or concerns?”

“Yeah, I think he got it all, but just in case, can you repeat the whole thing, he wasn’t listening,” Commander Ashok says as he whacks Flotor on the shoulder, startling him out of his daydream, and causing him to almost fall out of his chair. The whole room erupts in laughter, the loudest chortles of all coming from the soldiers behind him.


	44. Undercooked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.”  
> ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Under a veil of darkness in the dead of night, the first wave of soldiers is released into their drop zone. Equipped with Olkari night vision, they swiftly dismantle the fire traps set for them. As they don their gas masks, a thick cloud of nitrous oxide is uniformly released throughout the village of sleeping Arusians. Nymuë and Romelle swiftly insert oralpharyngeal airways into the unconscious villagers to prevent unintended asphyxiation, while the soldiers systematically evacuate the entire area. The two unresponsive druids hiding among the villagers were immediately eliminated. Flotor lead the first detachment of troops and found renewed appreciation in Nymuë’s flawless plan. Nitrous oxide was a readily available sedative, was easily administered to a large population, but in the event of ambush, was not flammable. He had never undertaken rescue operations before, and he loved the exhilaration of working alongside her. 

Blade intelligence had indicated the presence of a secret underground base strategically located immediately under this village, presumably with the intention of using the villagers as a shield. It was comprised of two main wings, one housing the remainder of the four hundred Altean captives and the other for research and experimentation. A total of sixteen druids were present in the complex, in addition to numerous sentries and drones. Wave two of their platoon breaches the base, with Pidge quickly reprogramming the drones to play looped footage of the Altean prisoners. Ezor leads one of three groups to hunt down the druids while Flotor heads the team to evacuate the prisoners. 

He, along with many of the planning committee had expected the Alteans to be fraught with panic and fear, but Nymuë had halted the discussion at that point. 

“If I might interrupt,” she says, “studies show that widespread panic in emergent situations is a rare occurrence and is not ‘contagious’. In fact, rescuers often observe the masses to be surprisingly calm and receptive to instruction, if the following conditions are met: immediately available assistance, clear and present escape routes, and absence of imminently lethal threats. I would recommend Lotor lead the evacuation, since they trust him, and his presence will soothe their frayed nerves.”

As she had stated, the Alteans were immediately cooperative, eager to help one another, and calmed by the presence of their saviour. “We knew you would come!” they gratefully whispered as he ushered them to safety. 

Meanwhile, a fierce battle had broken out in the other wing. The druids had been wary of an impending attack, despite being caught off guard. As word was relayed to the rescue team, they had to assume new formations. Their top priority was now to protect the fleeing civilians and distract the druids as long as possible. 

Some of the druids fled outside to launch fiery attacks and activate the traps they had set. As soon as they emerged, however, they were shot down by Kolivan’s snipers. One of them managed to initiate the launch sequence for the burning tar bombs. As fire rained down upon the terrified Alteans, the allies were ready. The blue lion shot into view, deftly positioning itself as a shield against the fiery fusillade and returned fire with its own icy blast. Though the burning ammunition showed no signs of exhaustion, they were successfully repelled by Allura’s manoeuvring. 

As the last Alteans were boarding the ship, Nymuë tugs on Flotor’s arm. “The fire is a distraction, Lotor! Something bigger is coming.”

“Yes, which is why I am about to bring you aboard the Sincline ship with me. Romelle and Lotor are already waiting for us.”

“Do you think it’s the Komar Robeast?”

“Possibly, yes.”

“What about Allura? She’s still in her blue lion!”

“We have a little surprise to show you.”

Commander Ashok takes over the evacuation, as Flotor and Nymuë depart to their cloaked ship nearby. “Flood the base,” Flotor orders. All operatives immediately don their gas masks as nitrous oxide is released into the facility. Any remaining druids were either knocked out cold or had attempted to teleport outside; those that did were greeted by the end of a sniper rifle. The Blade members then did a systematic sweep, using anemone to pick off any flaccid druids, and rescuing a last remnant of Alteans left in the experimentation wing. 

Thanks to Lotor’s duplicity, most of Haggar’s druids had abandoned Reiphod and had congregated on Arus. Their Komar Robeast had not yet been dispatched there, for which they were grateful, given tonight’s surprise attack. It would be a last ditch effort, given the failure of any and all ambush attacks they had planned for. Unbeknownst to them, however, they were about to meet an incendiary karmic retribution, the likes of which the universe had never seen.


	45. Call of Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One shall stand, one shall fall.” - Optimus Prime

Alternate reality Lotor took Nymuë by the hand and sped toward the awaiting Sincline ship. As they ran, they watched with dread as not one, but two Robeasts rose from the depths of an underground hangar. “Ryner, Lance, do it now!” Lotor yells from within his ship. 

Earlier in the day, during their meeting, Shiro had addressed a need for contingency plans after they had the worked out the skeleton of their assault. “We need to be prepared in case the Komar Robeast is on site.” 

“What if we use their own fire against them to inflict damage in situ, before they are even launched?” Nymuë asks. “After all, the supreme art of war is to win without fighting.”

“What do you propose?” asks Shiro.

“Nitrous oxide isn’t flammable per se, but if you rapidly heat the whole kitten caboodle to over 300 degrees Celsius... you get my drift?” she replies slyly.

“I don’t get it,” says Lance dejectedly. Other than Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk, the rest of the attendees were glad he asked because they didn’t get it either.

“It breaks down into its constituents, nitrogen and oxygen, thereby giving us a prodigious amount of highly combustible fuel,” replies Lotor. 

Nymuë continues to say,” Nitrous oxide supercools the surrounding air into a dense gas. If you suddenly superheat it, you’ll release a massive amount of concentrated oxygen into a confined space, creating a catastrophic combustion potential. Race cars used to operate under the same principle when they injected a shot of nitrous for a sudden speed boost. I say we light the motherfuckers up with the red lion before they’re even out of the hangar. We’ll destroy all of their research and experiments as well.”

Both Lotors loved every minute of listening to her. Neither of them had thought of a chemical that was simultaneously non-flammable as a sedative, and flammable as a devastating weapon. It was sheer brilliance. Flotor briefly thought back to his now defunct relationship and he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to return. Nymuë was everything he didn’t know he wanted.

“But we don’t know what the Arusians use for fuel,” says Hunk. “Will it burn hot enough?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Tar burns to 300 degrees, napalm to 800 degrees. Any type of flammable substance in between will be sufficient.”

Flotor looks affectionately at her again. Was she a pyrotechnics expert now? He just wanted the whole day done with so he could take her to bed. 

Ryner’s organic mechs had already sequestered an immense supply of the Arusian napalm and sent the entire barrage back onto the base. Before the Robeasts’ hangar doors had fully engaged, the red lion blitzes the tarry fuel into a fiery inferno. The resultant conflagration is so hot, that a seismic explosion rocks the entire complex, sending fiery pillars shooting into the air, and tremendous shockwaves violently convulsing the surrounding area. Lance continues the assault, now focusing on the first visible Robeast, using his lion to continue its relentless immolation. The nitrous oxide hanging in the air throughout the village also ignites, creating a colossal fireball. 

By this time, Nymuë and Flotor have safely made it aboard the ship and ready for launch. The Sincline Robeast assembles under cloaking, the latter operated by Lotor who had been awaiting their arrival. As the allies attempt to assess the damage, the remainder of the Voltron lions emerge to assist. The first Robeast breaks free of its molten hangar; it had raised its shields in time to mitigate much of the fiery damage. However, the other one was not so fortunate. Its weapons and guidance systems had been immediately damaged, and it continued to sustain increasing destruction from red’s unremitting onslaught. Its construction hadn’t been fully complete, the ramifications of that now clear from its imminent demise. 

Nymuë and both Lotors now watched from a distance to guage their opponent’s strength, speed, and capabilities as it fought Voltron. This new Robeast was incredibly agile, and it’s manoeuvrability exceeded that of Voltron. Veritas, however, was on par with it. Additionally, as per Nymuë’s request, their long dual swords had been shortened to the proportions of wakizashi blades, thereby increasing their fighting speed. 

“The chest is its weakness,” say both Lotors in unison. 

Voltron was fighting valiantly, but it was clear the Robeast held the advantage. With each subsequent blow, their adversary was already one step ahead and moving in for the kill. As the sickle blades struck into the shoulder and depleted Voltron of its quintessence, the Robeast was suddenly knocked off kilter. 

Without Haggar, the mech warrior was being manually controlled by two druids within. They couldn’t figure out what had hit them until Veritas flew by in a blinding flurry of master swordsmanship. Lotor piloted his mech and operated its tail, while Nymuë and Flotor wielded the left and right swords, respectively. 

The allies watched in awe from afar, dual blades dancing harmoniously as extensions of a single one. Now with each strike, the Robeast was losing ground, unable to mount an offence, forced to resort to defensive positions. The increasingly desperate druids made their final call: if they couldn’t hit Veritas, at least they could take out Voltron. The Komar Robeast feigned one strike, deked out another, and successfully rammed their mech opponent into the trees. As the fearsome chest plate opened to release a massive blast of stolen quintessence energy, the entire mech suddenly froze. Voltron had shot an anemone polyp at the Robeast, and to the confusion of every allied soldier and civilian around, ripped off its own leg and threw it in the direction of its fallen friend. 

Even Commander Ashok was baffled. He actually stopped his ship to continue to watch what was happening. Every window of his cruiser was crammed full of Altean spectators, trying to decipher the outcome. There were unbelievable screams and cheering when Veritas emerged and caught the blue lion in mid-air. But it was a lion no longer. It had transformed into an energy canon, tailor-made to fit the Sincline Robeast. As both Lotors, Allura, and Romelle channel a phenomenal amount of quintessence energy into the ship, the condensed rays gather at the apex of the canon in a blinding light before forever silencing the vulnerable open chest of Haggar’s last perversion of life. 

The Alteans went wild. One could barely decipher anything above the incredible din.

“It’s a gun, it became a gun!” 

“Lotor’s ships are a giant robot!”

“Motherquiznacker, did you see those swords?”

The soldiers were completely awestruck. The power their emperor commanded was absolutely matchless. It was a day no one in the empire would soon forget. The war was over. They had won. Freedom had prevailed. And just like Lotor had promised in his first speech, they would see their grand empire rise above the poverty of ages past, ushering in a new era of peace and prosperity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, if Atlas can become a giant robot without Altean alchemy or transreality comet material, the blue lion can evolve to become a gun. Fight me.


	46. Saints Quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “To be more precise it was the color of heartache.”  
> ― Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

The radiant morning light broke across the Arusian landscape, placid, unperturbed, and peaceful, heralding the dawn of a new age. A hazy smoke hung heavily in the air, rank with a seared alkaloid and metal odour, the honoured remnants of their fierce battle for freedom. The charred and blackened ashes of the Arusian village which normally would evoke grieving and loss, instead brought the hope of new growth that follows a raging forest fire. As soon as it was over, Flotor rushed over and held Nymuë in a crushing embrace. He picked her up and kissed her until she was breathless. He had just set her down when Lotor came barreling in, euphoric with an effervescent elation. Everything he had ceaselessly toiled for, strived for, and endeavoured after his entire life, had come to fruition. He picked her up and twirled her around with ease, then held her tightly to him. His earnestness caused his counterpart to chuckle, for they both felt the immediate and immense relief from eons of encumbrance. 

The paladins were still cheering loudly inside their lions. It was hard to believe it was all over. Earth was safe. The universe was safe. They could go home to their families. And the blue lion turning into a gun was the most amazing thing in the history of amazing things. 

The first two waves of fighters were set to depart as soon as their reinforcements arrived. The next platoon of allied Blade members, Olkari, and Galra soldiers were under orders to comb the planet and flush out any remaining druids. Allura and Romelle would return with the allies to Olkarion and assist with settling the second group of Alteans, while Nymuë and the two Lotors returned to Central Command for one last task before they regrouped with everyone on Olkari. A third group of Olkari would assist the now conscious Arusians in rebuilding their homes. 

After their arrival, the first prisoner they approached was Sendak. 

Lotor maintained a neutral expression as he confronted his old foe. Roused from his torpor, Sendak sneers at him. 

“What do you want?” he snarls.

“Do you wish to beg for mercy and pledge allegiance to me?” 

“I would rather die than serve an impure weakling like you. Victory or death.” 

Rather than react with anger, as Sendak had expected, Lotor looked back at Nymuë and rubbed his brow to express his exhaustion.

“As you wish, then. It is time for the next generation to rise up and take the helm. The free people of the universe have no forbearance for the inclement cruelty and blatant disregard for life that you abide by. Loyalty to the Galra and to the empire may be speciously considered good. However, justice, liberty, mercy, and compassion are far greater virtues than blind subservience. Rest in peace, Commander.”

As his vision fades to black, Sendak exhales his relief. Death was the only thing he wished for, at this point. He had been defeated and it was better to die, than to live with dishonour.

Nymuë and Flotor silently follow Lotor to Haggar’s cell. To the surprise of the former two, Dayak was already there awaiting them. Flotor watches Nymuë salute her and stand at attention as he used to when he was under her charge. He nods in acknowledgement of her as he removes he helmet. She merely raises an eyebrow to his nostalgic amusement; this Dayak was exactly the same, and nothing ever ruffled her. Conversely, to his surprise, she completely ignored him and Lotor, while lavishing praise on Nymuë for her military conquests. He glances at his counterpart who also returns his gaze; his governess never praised him for anything when he was little. 

“And now I finally meet the alternate reality emperor Lotor that you have rescued. Well done, my child,” she says proudly. 

“How did you know about that?” Lotor asks, “his presence was classified.”

“I have my ways,” Dayak responds ambiguously. 

“Shall we proceed, then?” Lotor asks without emotion. 

Dayak nods and they all filter into the detainment room. Lotor exhales a deep breath as he brings the anemone extraction down a notch to awaken Haggar. As Haggar’s vision sharpens into focus, she is confused by the presence of two Lotors. 

“I am here to ask you what you would do if you were me,” Lotor says. “How can you offer restitution for the egregious perversions and horrendous atrocities you have committed over the course of these many ages?” 

“I had no control over the events that transformed me into the witch, Haggar. But I assure you that I am no longer the same person since I entered Oriande. That was all thanks to you, my son. It was all made possible by the extraordinary heights to which you had carried on my research. And what of this fellow, is this a Lotor from another reality?” Nymuë notices a nearly imperceptible smile on Haggar’s face.

Flotor doesn’t answer or acknowledge her. The simmering rage was noticed only by Nymuë as she quietly wrapped her hand around his shaking fist. 

Lotor ignores her question and persists on his original point. “You have avoided my question. What would you do if you were me? You threaten the existence of all life in the universe and exhibit no remorse or diversion from your murderous intent.” 

Haggar harrumphs and declines to answer. Instead she continues to tacitly imply her pride and joy in her only child. The sudden pounding of a fist on the nearby console startles everyone in the room. They all turn in bewilderment to Dayak who has lost her cool for the first time in over ten millennia. 

“ENOUGH!” she exclaims with seething ire and hatred dripping from her being. “Don’t you dare pretend that you care at all for Lotor’s well-being. While you were off murdering the inhabitants of every planet you conquered, I was constantly working against you to protect him from the devastating effects of your evil. I trained Lotor harder than any charge before him, to harden and strengthen him against the malevolence that has so infected our once proud people. I even tortured his beloved to help her understand the pain he has endured. Now, I treated him as I would my own son and if anyone could claim the right to be proud of him, it would be mine and mine alone. Make your amends with the universe. This is the end of the line, witch.”

Lotor steps aside in complete shock to allow Dayak the honour of exacting justice. Haggar breathes her last as Dayak maximizes the extraction capability of anemone. 

Both Lotors are completely stunned, and can only blink away their disbelief as Dayak turns to Lotor with a slight smile. She sets her hands upon his shoulders and says with emotion brimming in her eyes, “I have waited ten thousand years to do this, Blood Emperor Lotor. I am proud of all you have accomplished. You have brought honour back to our people.” She then turns to Flotor and gives him the same affirmation. “I have the same message to give you from the Dayak in your reality.”


	47. Guitar Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is this the real life?  
> Is this just fantasy?  
> Caught in a landslide  
> No escape from reality  
> Open your eyes  
> Look up to the skies and see  
> I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy  
> Because I'm easy come, easy go  
> A little high, little low  
> Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me, to me  
> Mama, just killed a man  
> Put a gun against his head  
> Pulled my trigger, now he's dead  
> Mama, life had just begun  
> But now I've gone and thrown it all away  
> Mama, ooo  
> Didn't mean to make you cry  
> If I'm not back again this time tomorrow  
> Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters
> 
> \- Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody

Lotor was relieved that he didn’t have to do it himself. All of the bitter strife he had endured at Haggar’s hands was at an end and yet, his residual feelings remained hollow and thin. Nymuë knew he wanted to be alone, so she wordlessly squeezed his hand as she turned to leave. A moment after her departure, Dayak walloped both Lotors on the back side of the head in two lightening quick strikes of her training rod. 

“Ow,” exclaims Flotor, “what was that for? Why does everyone keep hitting me, lately?”

“THAT’S for not listening to her and allowing that horrendous clone to nearly kill her.”

“But I was not even here yet!” Flotor protests.

“She nearly died for your sake as well. I am not to witness another egregious dereliction of duty again, is that clear?”

“Yes, perfectly clear,” they both mutter dejectedly. 

Dayak smacks them both again.

“Ow! What did I do now?” Flotor utters with annoyance.

“She silently endured all of my training no matter how hard I struck her. You are never to take her for granted, do you understand? Now, be off. I shall oversee the cleanup.”

Lotor heads off by himself to clear his head, but hears someone approach him from behind and sighs his amusement when he sees who it is. 

“I suppose my intention to spend some time alone could accommodate another person if that person was myself.”

“It was never more strange to meet myself than it is in this particular moment.” As they approach the old strategy room, they continue their conversation. 

“That old witch was indeed, inseparably bound by the evil that corrupted her; I believe this end is what Honerva would have wanted...” Lotor begins.

“A merciful death.” 

He doesn’t answer.

“But the residual emptiness remains pervasive.”

The two continue to reminisce upon the tragedies that befell everyone they ever cared about at the hands of Zarkon and Haggar. It was surprisingly cathartic for the two of them to verbally acknowledge their suffering. They found that their circumstances were nearly identical, with the exception of only two events: the presence of Nueh and of Nymuë. That was when their paths began to diverge. Lotor didn’t crave power to the extent that his counterpart did, all because a little girl had softened his heart so many ages ago. He also didn’t kill as many Alteans as Flotor did because of her influence. The stark reality of his journey all of sudden struck him; he may not have fallen in love with Nymuë were it not for her. He likely would have pursued the most strategic alliance, Allura, and potentially overlooked everything Nymuë had done for him at the beginning. 

“I realize once more, for someone who has repeatedly been lauded for his exceptional intelligence, how utterly foolish I have been, in many regards,” Lotor says. 

“Speak for yourself,” Flotor laughs, knowing that he has made all the same mistakes. 

“We have a long journey ahead of us if we are to rectify the wrongs in your reality; they will have had time to accomplish much more than they were able to here.”

“I do not relish the thought of it,” he replies, thinking of the Altean colony left entirely unprotected. 

“There are still a few days before your ships will be fully operational. Might as well enjoy your time here until then.”

“I fully intend to,” he smiles as he gets up to leave. 

The mental and physical toll of overexertion overcame both of them at that point and they headed to their respective quarters for a deep and dreamless sleep. Lotor found Nymuë already asleep in his bed and happily nestled in behind her, deeply thankful for having her in his life.

The celebratory spirit and grand reception on Olkarion was spectacularly unprecedented; thousands of people from across the galaxy gathered in massive revelries. Blade and coalition members alike, Galran and Altean citizens, and soldiers from both sides of the divide all intermingled in solidarity, rather than antagonism or antipathy. People flocked to catch a glimpse of the guests of honour as they arrived: Emperor Lotor and his consort who had been instrumental in terminating the final, existential threats to the universe. 

Despite her protests, Lotor was insistent that Nymuë stand at his side this time. She had refused for every previous address, so he threatened her with not giving a speech at all. She was absolutely aghast at the very prospect and reluctantly gave in to his wily coercion. He had been about to give her the intricate hair comb he had made, with the hope that she could wear it, but in the mad scramble to prepare for his speech, Flotor had vexatiously managed to steal her away from him. To his redoubled aggravation, his alternate self had not only personally styled her silky hair in an elegant crowning plait, but had gifted her with two exquisitely crafted hairpins which she now wore. Lotor sighed. It would have to wait for another time. He stopped to admire her beauty in the diplomatic ensemble he had first given her. She, too, had a difficult time keeping her eyes off of him; he had abandoned his armour in favour of traditional regal attire and it was the first time she had seen him so polished.

The frenzied crowd fell into an anticipatory hush as Lotor stepped upon the stage in an astounding central arena. 

“Fellow citizens of the free universe, I, Emperor Lotor of the Galra empire, address you with a triumphant and long outstanding declaration: the great war is over. The enduring suffering and oppression under the abominable reign of Zarkon and his witch, Haggar, are finally at an end and evil has been thoroughly vanquished. This conquest would have been impossible without your unrelenting resilience, your steadfast perseverance, and most importantly, your inextinguishable hope. Lest we forget the tremendous sacrifices of those who gave their lives, may today forever mark a day of remembrance to honour the fallen, for it is remembrance that is the fertile ground from which peace and unity will flourish. I would emphasize once more, that the concerted efforts of our loyal soldiers, the Blade of Marmora, and the Voltron coalition, all played an indispensable role toward victory. Henceforth, we shall negotiate treaties of peace with every subjugated world toward self-governance and freedom. The night is over at last. Raise your heads, unfetter your hearts, and lift your voices! The dawn of a new era is upon us, for today, we celebrate life, we cherish liberty, and we unite in peace!”

The thunderous applause, and uproarious cheering was a moment none of them would forget. Although Nymuë had forbidden him from mentioning her by name or attributing any praise whatsoever to her in public, he slyly worked around her restrictions by suddenly dipping her into an embrace and kissing her passionately. Pandemonium ensued, the crowd went wild, and they started throwing things in the air. As flash photography lit up the stage, their kiss would soon become an iconic representation of the end of the war. 

Commander Korvak took the microphone next to give the people a brief synopsis of the events that had transpired. Pidge and Hunk had collaborated with him to give a visual representation of his explanation and the people were entirely captivated by the incredible feats of the alliance members. “Oh, hold on, folks, I’m just getting a transmission now,” Korvak says as he interrupts himself. He then cuts to a live feed of the last druid on Arus, who has barricaded himself in a shelter, threatening to hunt down Blade members, as per the faulty intel retrieved from their HQ. 

“We are loyal to Haggar and we will systematically destroy every Blade member we have uncovered.”

“Yeah?” replies an unknown Blade. “I don’t believe you. Why don’t you go ahead and read that list out loud for us.”

“Isisa Reelyfe, Isisa Fantasie, Cotina Lansleid, Noah Skaip, Fumri Ality...”

“Thanks bro,” the Blade member replies before they blow the place apart and catch the druid in an anemone web. He turns the camera on himself and says enthusiastically, “Have fun, everyone, and definitely do this at home if there’s a druid!”

Korvak ends his presentation with an unexpected announcement. 

“Alright, folks, we have a little surprise for you all tonight. Let’s give it up for Catatomic!” Four band members suddenly decloak on stage and the crowd screeches in amazement, entranced by their stunning a capella introduction to Bohemian Rhapsody. Gales of laughter ensued when the people realized the druid had just unwittingly iterated the first few phrases of the song. 

It was a riveting, and thoroughly engaging concert. The choreography of the band members was phenomenal and they had the crowd in stitches from their theatrics and exaggerated gesticulating. Catatomic was an instant hit. Their feline eared helmets obscured their eyes, and hid their identities, but the mystery only fuelled the obsessions of their adoring fans. As their performance drew to a close, and ended with a slower song, the Galra contingent of soldiers were absolutely flabbergasted as they watched Seph hop onto stage. The gall of that womanizing prick to take the molly cat and slowdance with her in front of thousands of people was... absolutely infuriating. And where the hell did he learn to dance like that? Bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catatomic also played:
> 
> Knights of Cydonia - Muse  
> Strength in Numbers - The Music  
> Love Illumination - Franz Ferdinand  
> Unintended - Muse


	48. Maelstrom Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She tells her love while half asleep  
> In the dark hours,  
> With half-words whispered low:  
> As earth stirs in her winter sleep  
> And puts out grass and flowers  
> Despite the snow,  
> Despite the falling snow.”
> 
> \- Robert Graves

After Nymuë had woken up from her nap and agreed to accompany Lotor for his address, he had left his quarters to write it, leaving her time to prepare. She was still groggy and feeling exceptionally tired so she rolled over and dozed off again. She was awoken by someone gently stroking her back and asks sleepily, “How did it go? Did you finish your speech?” 

Flotor chuckles and says, “That is the second time you have mistaken me for someone else. I believe he is still working on it.” He then says with great tenderness, “Nymuë, my time here is drawing to an end. Will you come with me?” 

When she finally gets up, she hears him suppress some laughter. “Are you laughing at me?” she asks rubbing her eyes.

“I have never seen your hair in such... disarray.” 

She had gone to bed with it wet, and it was now a gloriously tangled bird’s nest. “Come, allow me to brush it for you,” he says amusedly. After she dresses, he sits her down and brushes her hair for her. She never imagined that such an innocuous gesture could feel so intimate. 

“Immediately after my arrival here,” he starts, “I am deeply ashamed to admit that I was somewhat irritated my counterpart had fallen in love with a non-Altean. I had elevated that half of my heritage with such bloated esteem, that I even dismissed your innumerable and indispensable contributions to the direction of this war. As I began to piece together the events preceding my arrival, however, it became increasingly evident why he loved you.” 

He shifts his weight and resumes a very gentle and painless disentangling. “My aggravation, which I believe originated from anger with myself, was soon displaced by jealousy at the perfection with which the two of you manage not just your affairs, but your entire relationship. It was a bitter pill to swallow, having compared it to the utter failures that were my own governance as emperor and my own relationship with the Allura in my reality.”

Satisfied he had reclaimed its original satiny lustre, he takes a moment to run his fingers through her sleek hair before he begins to weave it into an elaborate coiffure. He sighs deeply. “The time I spent outside your quarters listening to you cry was filled with an unparalleled regret. My counterpart had perceived my own distress as he entered your room to calm you, but sought me out afterwards. He gave me a minute section of the crystallized castle, a segment of the comet ore, and stated that as someone who has fucked up many times, all you can do is try again, having received the same advice himself from Lance, I believe.”

Flotor pulls out two intricate, curlicued jet black hairpins, with a delicately inset trio of diamonds. “I could have never anticipated the series of tumultuously byzantine events since you rescued me,” he says as he takes her hands and kneels before her. “However, this not only marks a seminal moment toward absolution and restitution for all of my accumulated wrongs,” he says softly as he presses the hairpins into her hands, and lifts her chin to look at him, “but also of an incipient love I never thought possible.”

He allows her a moment to admire her gift before he takes them again, and sets them in her elegant upswept hair. “Even as I was designing your gift, I continued to be wracked with guilt, to the point that Lance and Hunk took notice. They somehow decided that the best remedy would be stringing me along in their caper to buoy the spirits of a despondent Shiro. He seemed to be blaming himself for the loss of a romantic relationship so I merely stated what Lotor had told me. His subsequent about-face in emotion substantially assisted me on my own path toward recovery.” He leans in to plant a chaste kiss upon her lips.

Cupping her cheek and holding her head still against his, he continues, “I have no doubt that the depth of fellowship and camaraderie now rooted in this group was seeded by your kindness because it is significantly stronger than that of their counterparts in my reality. It has become a resplendent canopy of friendship, guarding each member from the darkness of dystrophic despair.”

“In a bid to do away with the traditions of old, encumbered with pretence and antiquated social mores, this gift is meant to be a new...” he pauses and closes his eyes momentarily, unable to find the next words. After a deep breath, he is able to summon the courage to say, “a novel type of... uh, betrothal gift...” he pauses again, stricken with nervous fear of rejection. 

His fears were completely unfounded, as she clasped his face with both hands, and with tears in her eyes, kissed him with a deep swell of affection and tenderness.


	49. Shadow of the Borealis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.” - JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

When Catatomic was revealed on stage, a hush of intrigue and wonderment fell over the audience. With no explanation as to their origin or identities, the collective fascination inevitably focused on their attractive physicalities; the modest cyan streaked vantablack suits, a tribute to Voltron’s comet origin, were quite complementary to their taut and sculpted physiques. There was a fourth member whose mysterious cybernetic arm sparked an instant obsession among a nascent, yet already fawning fan base. Could it be the black paladin?! Whispered theories immediately abounded. 

Admiration and adoration soon gave way to concerted cheering and dancing; the wildly emphatic molly cat incited clapping, stomping, and moshing with her charismatic stage presence. As the first tune approached its crescendoed climax, heightened by the thunderous sound of the entire arena chanting their new anthem in solidarity, large inflatable balls depicting caricatured Zarkons and Haggars were dropped into the crowd to punch into the air as they pleased. 

Esconced in security, and ecstatic with victory, the atmosphere was electrifying. Both Lotors were having the time of their lives. Never had there been a celebration of this magnitude in the Galra empire. Flotor in particular, was so entranced, that his fellow contingent took notice of his dreamy woolgathering. 

The past several weeks had been a whirlwind of fantastic adventure, whimsical romanticism, and now, joyous triumph. It was so spectacularly absurd to be completely content sharing his beloved with someone else who was, in fact, himself, that he still found it difficult to believe it was all true. He looked at his new fiancé and felt a surge of heat rise in his chest. The words she sang in this moment were meant for him. He felt himself walking forward and pushing through the crowd to be closer to her. This was completely unplanned but the guys would know what to do. 

Shiro and Lance saw him approach and gave him a nod. Whispers and excited chatter filled the stadium as an unknown, yet stately and august Galra soldier took to the stage. Everyone watched in fevered anticipation as he bowed courteously to the female guitarist and took her hand. The way her hand flew to her mouth, the timidity of a single step back, and the prolonged moment of hesitation, universally spoke of her pure astonishment. To further exacerbate her confusion, the band members are now playing a captivating, but unexpected number; Nymuë finds herself swept into an intoxicating tempo, as she follows the surefooted lead of her partner. Their mesmerizing magnetism enraptured many battle wearied hearts, just as a lucent aurora borealis clarifies an endless nocturnal umbra. The world fell away as they danced under the stars, lost in passion, and lavished in desire. The dream was over all at once, as the breathless couple stood before an adulant crowd. He suddenly sweeps her into his arms, picks her up, and says unrepentantly into the open microphone, “Make love, not war! Good night, good night everyone”

The stunned audience watches disbelievingly as he carries her offstage and whisks her away. If there was pandemonium after Lotor and Nymuë’s kiss earlier, there was now absolute unadulterated anarchy. 

Flotor didn’t care about the mayhem he just incited. Nor did he care about what the paladins were probably thinking. And the other Lotor? Tomorrow’s problem. He was already furiously kissing her when he kicked open the door to their room. He didn’t even care how desperate he seemed. He just wanted to make love to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catatomic plays Cuando Me Enamoro - Enrique Iglesias, Juan Luis Guerra
> 
> For those who have not heard Shiro singing Despacito:
> 
> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=44i6uNNzQXM


	50. Faeble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.”  
> ― Mark Twain

Allura and Romelle returned after retrieving popkernels, and candy floss, to discover mass chaos in the arena. They nudge Pidge, and ask, “Hey, what did we miss?”

“Um.... nothing, nothing,” she casually waves her hand, “Everybody is just super... happy... that the war is over.”

Lotor ran his hand over his face as he watched Flotor’s antics on stage. He supposed that there were limited ways to celebrate his new engagement and his accomplishments since his identity was secret, but that last announcement was completely unnecessary. He would have to invent a cover story, at least for the ones who knew Seph’s true identity. That son of a bitch owed him big time because this was going to take all night. 

Flotor awakens at around 2am to find his counterpart studiously working on a project under a dim light in their room. As soon as he saw what Lotor was doing, he understood. He felt badly that he was going to such lengths to salvage the situation created by his impertinent behaviour, so he takes over and sends Lotor to sleep. He only manages two more hours of work, before he finally collapses in bed as well. 

As the gentle rays of the morning rouse Nymuë from sleep, she noticed how exhausted the two of them appeared. She moved carefully to avoid waking them, and it is then that she sees what they had been working on. She shook her head as she looked affectionately at them. They were really sweet guys, the two of them. She admired their work for a while and could differentiate who had done what, as their artistry differed very slightly. But it seemed both of them had been too tired to finish. So she took over and by the time they had awoken, the project was complete. 

She was still sitting at the desk when Lotor awoke. He walked over and pulled her into an embrace. “You never told me you could draw too, love,” she says with amusement as she snuggled into him. 

“How can you be certain I drew any of those?” he asks with a smile.

“I dunno, I’m too tired to break it down. I just know you drew Meklavar, Block, and Valayun, and he drew Pike, Shiro, and me with Zep. You’ve become pretty close with the Pidge and Hunk, while he has become pretty good friends with Lance and Shiro. That’s so endearing the way you guys drew their characters.

He sweeps her cheek with the back of his hand. “I have never been able to hide very much from you,” he chuckles. “Did you finish the rest of them?!”

“Yeah, here’s Pip and Froot. But I also made Ryder and Theren.”

“You made me look pretty good.”

“You always look pretty good. Especially last night. Oh my god, you...” she stops as her gaze is drawn down to his chiseled physique. “Nothing,” she squeaks, “never mind.”

Lotor laughs. “I am not entirely certain why you are being bashful right now. It is not as if we have never been intimate before.”

“Soooo, we’re good, then? Right, I should have a bath.”

“No, I would like you to tell me what you were thinking just now.”

He didn’t expect her to dash away from him as she refused his request but he took it as a challenge as he followed her into the bath. 

The happy trio finally emerged close to lunch time, proudly presenting their gifts to their friends. 

“OMG, did you guys stay up all night making those?!” Pidge asks incredulously. 

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” says a weepy, teary Hunk. Pidge smacks him to reprimand his grossly over exaggerated gratitude. 

“Actually, this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for us,” Ezor says with a genuine smile.

“Aw, this is so great! Thanks buddy,” Lance says gratefully as he sets his arm on Flotor’s shoulders. “So that whole trick that you pulled last night...”

“Merely a ruse to protect her identity should your band perform again. I have, unfortunately, made her a target given my overtly public display of affection yesterday,” Lotor replies. 

“Well, you know what this means,” Shiro says happily. “We’ll have to finish our game today!”

“Are you sure we can finish such a massive campaign in one more sitting?” Allura asks sceptically. 

Pidge jumps up and down excitedly. “Monsters & Mana marathon, guys! Yes!”

“You are all such big nerds,” Ashok says coolly. “Especially you two, muchachos,” he says to the Lotors.


	51. Faeble II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For if joyful is the fountain that rises in the sun, its springs are in the wells of sorrow unfathomable at the foundations of the Earth.”  
> ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

Upon re-emerging from the dragon’s lair, there was an excited hum of ebullient and lighthearted chatter from their recent successive victories. Aeolyn fell behind the rest of the group, as Zep plodded jauntily alongside her. She suppressed her own unease, and tenderly asked him how he felt about the loss of his mother. To her surprise, he replied that that vile creature was no mother. He had been stolen as a hatchling by that cruel, malicious dragon, and forced into an apprenticeship of wickedness. He had been immensely happy to be rescued and wished to stay with her. She had replied gently that he was always welcome with them and kissed his snout. 

Zep, sensing her inquietude, stopped her suddenly and rubbed his head along her body. He asked her why she was scared. She sighed and summarized the gravity of her plight, to which the little dragon unfurled its wings and shrieked his anguish. He was so upset that Theren took notice and came back to investigate. As he kneeled down and set his hand on Zep’s head, it stomped its little claws in distress and pleaded in the only sonant hissing and clacking it knew, punctuated with the occasional ‘Aeo.’

Aeolyn huffs a single laugh through her tears, and explained that Zep was asking him to save her from her ill-fated prophesy; he recognized Theren was one of the most intelligent and powerful of the group, and possessed the ability to do so. The elf prince pets the little beast playfully and wags his finger with mock consternation. “Pay heed, baby dragon, for I have loved her from long before you even existed. Of course, I intend to do so. Why do you think I am here with her? Now, might I request you henceforth refrain from hitting me?” He then moves to wipe away her tears and to steal a tender kiss from her. Little Zep sheepishly accepts his conditions. Maybe this wizard guy wasn’t so bad after all. He unexpectedly pushes his head into the hand of his new ally and says, “Seweh.” Theren was pleasantly surprised by the dragonling’s sudden fondness and gives him a dried fish. 

With renewed vim and vigour, Zep trots up to greet Froot, to hopefully receive another ‘unsolicited’ snack. In the interim, Theren offers his arm, which Aeolyn clasps gratefully.

“Aeo, you have been crying, tell me what troubles you.”

“Um... I was just worried about everything. I just want to be with you, but there are so many forces working against us.”

“I believe I have solved the riddle imparted to us by the Coatl. Fear not, Aeo. I do not yet have all the pieces, but I assure you we will find them. I will allow no harm to come to you,” he says gently as he holds her hand tightly. 

She was not aware he was so far ahead in the game and could only manage a shaky, “thank you.” She clutches his arm tightly and leans her head into him as they continue to walk in a comfortable silence. She thinks of his extraordinary gentleness, one that was atypical of Elvenfolk in general, especially those of the fighting class. Elven combat was both feared and revered throughout the lands for its merciless efficacy; warriors were known to be stoic, spartan, and severe. Theren had received the finest combat training in Felociel and was expected to carry himself accordingly, as heir to the throne. Especially for one who had been forced to drink from the bitter, brackish pools of bigotry all her life, his was an exceptionally sweet love. 

Aeolyn knew their love was unequivocally taboo, and would garner a collective condemnation once publicly known, but she didn’t care. She had tried to suppress her growing affections for him, but his scythe-like seduction cut through her soft objections like butter the first time he claimed her. In addition to their inexorable attraction to each other, Aeolyn was the only half-human bard capable of speaking Elvish. Unlike every other race, Elves had two sets of vocal cords, their language a harmonic, musical symphony. She was entirely human in appearance, lacking the second set of vocal cords; however, she was such a proficient bard that she could play the consonant chords on her lute as she spoke. Also playing outside of their vocal range, her synchronized musical overtures with her half-brother were so eclectically beautiful, even her harshest critics gave pause, and sometimes due praise. In life and in love, their elegant harmony was truly one of a kind.

“You think there is a way around my curse, Theren?” she asks finally.

“Yes, though we may face perilous situations in our quest to do so.”

“I trust you, love.”

“Hey guys!” Meklavar shouts suddenly. “For the reverse petrification spell, it says here we need either the stomach acid of a basilisk, um, ewww, or the tail feather of a cockatrix but there’s a section missing here about the feather potion. There’s some kind of condition that I can’t decipher.”

“The stipulation is that it must be administered within 24 vargas of the initial petrification,” replies Theren. “Petrification may also be undone by a grand restoration spell, but I assume you have unsuccessfully attempted this option?”

“Yeah, it didn’t work...” Block says dejectedly.

“I think Theren should have a cockatrix familiar,” interrupts Pike.

As everyone turns to look at him skeptically, he replies, “What? Aeolyn has a pet, Theren should have one too. Then we don’t have to expend mana to undo petrification every time we need it.”

Just when some of them were thinking that wasn’t a bad idea, he continues with, “and after you unpetrify all the people, you can be all like, ‘my work here is done, suckas,’ and ride off into the sunset.” The thought of it was so comical, they all laughed, except for Theren. Aeolyn had to cover her mouth, thinking of him riding on a hideous giant bat-bird. And then it all came out; all the stress and worry weighing on her was lifted by the uncontrollable laughter that seized her, as she clutched his cloak and buried her face into his chest. She laughed with such abandon that everyone was soon laughing at her instead. Pike came over and patted her on the shoulder as he looked knowingly at Theren, who smiled gratefully at him. As unruly and undisciplined as he was, Pike was always sensitive to the feelings of others. 

A hundred years ago, Theren would have never deigned to even consider riding on a wild avian familiar. Today, in all of his softheartedness, he would do anything to make Aeolyn laugh. “Alright,” he conceded to the cheers of everyone, “shall we fetch a cockatrix should we encounter one, then?”

“The lot of you know that we can simply purchase such potions with the immense amount of money we have now, right?” Valayun asks disbelievingly.

“Aw, but I want to see Theren ride a really big bird,” pouts Pike. “And then enter him into Cockatrix races too.” Aeolyn and Meklavar continue to laugh at the ridiculous imagery Pike had suggested.

“Valayun, I have been meaning to ask,” Theren starts, “what it is that you require the rune stone for?”

“Our grand matriarch is ill, and our water rune stone may be able to help her. It can activate the power of the great chrysalis, a healing chamber that grants healing once a millennium and is active now. It was stolen just as we were about to use it.”

“Since Block’s village is en route, are you comfortable with assisting the villagers first?”

“Certainly.”

Upon arrival to the haplessly paralyzed village, Block runs to several of them, and inspects their condition. 

“Uh, guys, this isn’t how they were frozen the first time. They’ve changed positions.”

“Are you sure?” asks Pike. “What if you just forgot and think they’ve moved?”

“I’m sure! Little Persephone was playing ball and now she’s sitting in that corner, the twins, Aries and Nyx were eating a snack and now they’re hiding behind their brother.”

“I dunno, Block. Maybe you’re just a block head.”

“Shall we try our new potions, then?” Valayun suggests. 

“Do it!” Mek yells. 

As it is all unfolding, Theren once again steps back and observes the results. He hadn’t thought the potions would work, and he was correct. Regular petrification spells or ailments that could be cured by potions generally wore off after a day, but this was an extremely powerful magic at work. He was certain it was no longer Dakon’s doing as he had been undoubtedly vanquished; that they were petrified again was merely a coincidence accomplished by another party. Whether this party had done so to lure their company back to village remained to be seen. He touched one of them and discovered she was cold, too cold to be merely stone.

“Block,” Theren says suddenly, “Do you have a rune scribe in your village?”

“Uh, yeah, actually, how do you know about her?”

“Take me to her immediately. Valayun, you must come as well.”

Block weaves his way through the silent living statues and there in the centre of the village, she was crouched over an artifact that was also frozen. 

“Are you well-versed in the rune arts?” Theren asks Valayun. 

“Well, yes, we are all required to learn of them from a young age.”

“Then you will be able to undo the icy mantle cast upon the villagers. They are not stone, but rather they are frozen from rune magic.”

As she summons her magic and inscribes a reverse-freezing rune, the team watches in awe as the villagers gradually are restored. She picks up the artifact in astonishment and feels a burning frost prickle in her hand. In its unfrozen state, it is clearly the rune stone of Lapham. 

Before anyone can ask the several hundred questions they have, Theren has a sudden realization and exclaims, “We were lured here. It’s a trap!”


	52. Faeble III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There's a grain of truth in every fairy tale,”  
> ― Andrzej Sapkowski, The Last Wish

Theren’s warning came too late. As a paralyzing cloud of sleep enveloped the astonished team, a crushing sense of dread and foreboding seized Theren as he helplessly watched a somnolent Aeolyn being dragged away by a hideous herd of Nightmares. His apprehension was only heightened by the fact that no one in his team had managed to escape the veil of slumber. As darkness overcame him, he remembered that Nightmares were summoned fiends, much like Valayun’s Pixion. 

Unbeknownst to Theren, they had an incredibly shrewd little dragon who had pretended to fall asleep with the group. He then mounted his own mini ambush when their enemies approached. The brave dragonling unflinchingly faced down horde of powerful fiends, spewing his poisonous breath with as much gusto as an fully grown dragon, but he soon succumbed to their overwhelming power. He too, watched with fading horror as they stole the object of his affections. 

No one had seen the shadowy figure hiding in plain sight, who had silently tracked the party from the edge of the forest. He had observed the waylaid party from afar and now came closer to investigate. In his weakened and injured state, Zep could not escape from this new threat, and haplessly thrashed his tail about. The stranger spoke in hushed, gentle tones to calm the panicky beast as he healed his wounds. 

“Fear not, little one, I am a friend,” Ryder says soothingly in draconic.

“They took Aeo, please help her,” Zep replies in distress. 

Ryder had been surprised to discover a dragonling among the group, and even more so when it proved to be friendly and capable of speaking a few words in the common tongue. “I will save her. She is, after all, the one I intend to marry,” he says with a dashing, debonair smile.

“Mister, I hate to break it to you, but she already loves Seweh. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Who? Oh, Prince Theren. Yes, of course she does, he is her brother.”

Zep smells his hand. “No, he’s not. You are her brother.”

Ryder narrows his eyes and frowns at the infuriating little beast. “Let us speak more of this later. Right now, we must wake up our allies and pursue these flagrant kidnappers.”

“Okay, but she loves Seweh.”

Ryder broke the sleeping spell with potions from the party’s own inventory; as the members slowly regained consciousness, they were incredibly grateful to see their old friend again. 

“Oh, hi Prince Artan,” says Pip, “fancy meeting you here.”

“PRINCE ARTAN?” exclaim the rest of the group. 

“How do you know each other?” Valayun asks.

“Your group is full of surprises,” Artan admits. “I had not anticipated finding a dragonling and defectors from the Aretean royal guard among you.”

“Right, but it’s all water under the bridge, right?” Pip laughs uncomfortably. 

“Perhaps,” Artan responds ambiguously. 

“Did you see where they took Aeo?” Theren asks immediately.

“Worry not, for I have sent my eagle to track them.”

“I am in your debt, Artan.”

“Theren,” Pike says, “you said this was a trap. Do you know who did it?”

“Few people possess sufficient power to indefinitely petrify an entire village. Whoever stole the rune stone of Lapham knew of its rare ability, was able to wield it, and did so to target our group. If Aeolyn was their ultimate goal, they must be fighting on behalf of the Elder.” Theren had much darker suspicions but did not wish to voice them yet. 

As the party was preparing to move once more, Artan summons his eagle vision ability. As he pulls out an orb to allow the team to watch events through the eyes of his eagle, Valayun gasps in disbelief and dismay. With a trembling voice, she states that the kidnapper is her own sister, and the Nightmares, her dark summons.


	53. Baby Zep as drawn by Canon Lotor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posting pictures on here is difficult if you are me. 
> 
> https://quixotic-quetzalcoatl.tumblr.com, is where the rest of them are! (Or just tap on the picture)
> 
> https://relicing.tumblr.com for Swordking63’s awesome art!

[ ](https://quixotic-quetzalcoatl.tumblr.com/)


	54. Faeble IV

“Okay, that’s... awkward,” says Meklavar. “Did you know you have an evil sister, Valayun?”

“Well, I don’t know that I did. She was always a bit of a fairweather friend at best, but scheming and manipulative at worst.”

“So, I guess we’re going to your place then?” asks Pike. “Where do you live, anyway?”

“My people reside in the sky mountains of Lapham.”

“Wow, the sky mountains?!” says Block in wonder. “I’ve never been. Must be so nice up there. How do we get there?”

“I can summon two flying mounts which should be sufficient to bring all of us.” She had been just about to ask Theren to sit with her when she was interrupted.

“Who’s going to sit where?” asks Block.

“Well, we should probably distribute our weight evenly,” starts Mek.

“I call shotgun,” Pike says quickly.

“You can’t call shotgun on a flying horse,” Mek interjects. 

“Yeah, you can, because I just did. You are way overthinking this. I know exactly where everyone should go,” Pike says with a sly smile. 

“What about Zep? He’s just a baby,” Mek says. “Can he even fly yet?”

Artan crouches down to speak with the dragonling who responds with a fervent determination. He was going to go too, regardless of how far it was. After he relayed that message to the rest of the team, Theren furtively casts a spell on Zep to lighten his load. Pike took his place behind Valayun on her equine beast along with Mek, Block and Shiro, while Theren, Artan, Froot and Pip mounted the frost griffon. 

Though the impending conflicts weighed heavily upon the team, it was still a breathtaking experience flying over the lush, verdant meadows, and rugged, mountainous terrain. The radiant rays of the evening sun painted the land in crimson hues, while the sky was awash in tones of amber and rose. As the cool wind rushed past, invigorating their senses, and the summer heat dissipated with the light of day, Artan asks Theren about Aeolyn’s mother.

“I never met her. I was studying abroad when Aeo was born, and had only returned several years afterwards. I was only told her mother had died in childbirth.” Theren grew suspicious. “Why do you ask?”

“Zep is under the impression that you are not her blood relative, while insisting that I am, in fact, her true brother. Do you know who her mother was? And are you certain your father is also her father? She is, after all, entirely human in appearance.”

Theren was truly astounded at the prospect; though he had thought it strange Aeolyn did not retain any Elven features, he hadn’t questioned her heritage, attributing it to a stroke of genetic chance. His mind began to race. Were this true, he could attend to his royal duties and continue to indulge in their consummate love. “I have only heard of her given name, Eocíl,” he replies. “Rumour had it that my father, given to a night of drunken debauchery, awoke in the morning with another woman. He had not given her another thought until a midwife appeared on the steps of our dwelling with a baby, plaintively stating that the child was his, and that the mother had succumbed to postpartum haemorrhaging.”

“So she did not even try to hide it,” grumbles Artan. “I did have a sister. I was told she died at birth. Eocíl was my mother’s maiden name, but she is still very much alive. I cannot imagine why she would go to such lengths to deceive us all. She risks our very alliances, and the tenuous peace in this land.”

“That does not explain, however, why I am not her brother,” Theren says pensively. 

“We must speak with her when we return,” fumes Artan. “It is unspeakable that I was nearly betrothed to my own sister.”

“Indeed,” Theren replies. He was content to relinquish the title of most honourable to Artan. Thinking she was his own sister hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with her, or claiming her for his own.

At this point, Theren noticed Zep beginning to tire despite his featherweight spell, so he called him over, to which he happily responded, plopping himself in Theren’s lap. He promptly fell asleep on the back of the great griffon, whispering his thanks to ‘Seweh’ before he nodded off. 

The sky lands of Lapham were majestic beyond imagination. Enveloped in a swirl of billowy clouds, magnificent snow-capped mountain peaks rose high above the luminous misty veil. Valayun directed the team to rest and recover in a hidden grotto just beyond the grand castle of their lofty city. 

Theren and Artan quickly assembled the team to formulate a strategic plan of attack. It was quickly agreed that Artan would partner with Pip and Froot given their familiarity with each other’s strengths. Pike would also assist them to lead the assault against attackers who would be inevitably part of a stall tactic. Pip’s devastating power combined with the stealth capabilities of Pike and Artan would be optimal for ambushing their opponents. Theren would lead the effort with Shiro, Valayun, Meklavar, and Block to rescue Aeolyn. 

Theren crouches down to ask Zep which group he would prefer to go with. As he pushes his head into his hand, Froot translates his sibilant affections. “He said that although he wants to go with Theren, he feels he can be most useful taking down the Nightmares, since he is immune to their sleep magic. He trusts Theren to rescue her.”

“Oh, hey, you do say more than three words,” Pike says as he walks up to Froot. 

She puts her hands on her hips and gives him a disgruntled look. 

Meanwhile, Aeolyn had regained consciousness and discovers herself bound in shackles as she is presented to the Grand Matriarch. 

“Welcome, my child, please step forward for we wish to finally see you,” she hears a decrepit, time-weathered voice say. 

“Your pluralis maiestasis is as nauseating as your perfunctory and spurious greeting,” Aeolyn hisses with disdain.

“You will not address our grand queen in such an uncouth manner,” yells her guard.

“Pfff, she’s no queen of mine. You are the Elder one, I presume?”

“We have had many names throughout the ages; we are the Evenstar, the Elder One, the Erstian Sun, and now, Grand Matriarch of the Laphians.”

“Why have you brought me here?”

“We offer you a choice, little one. Offer us your life in exchange for the safe passage of your friends. Or witness their inevitable downfall, a fate worse than death.”

“That’s not a choice, you spongy, kelp-brained fuckurchin,” Aeolyn replies with venom. 

“You will kneel before us in time, petulant one. For your friends are already here,” she cackles maliciously.


	55. Aeolyn as drawn by Canon Lotor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess Flotor likes anime...


	56. Prince Theren as drawn by Nymuë part 1

“Wait a sec, hold up guys,” Lance interrupts the game. “I just realized something. The only person who hasn’t shown us his character is this jerk right here,” he says as he smacks Flotor. “I refuse to play anymore until Seph here shows us what Prince Theren looks like.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” chimes in Block. “We’ve even seen Ryder and he’s hardly been playing at all.”

“That is because Nymuë chose to paint him in a flattering light,” Flotor responds dispassionately. 

“So how did she draw you, then?” Pidge asks glibly. 

“Is this truly necessary? Time is of the essence. Aeolyn is in danger,” he responds, to which Nymuë and Lotor start laughing, fueling the mounting curiosity among the rest of their friends.

“Nah uh, nope, nope, nope,” Lance replies. “You’re hiding something and I want to know what it is.”

“It can’t be that bad, Seph,” Shiro says with a chuckle. 

“Aw, come on, show us, we beseech you, Prince Theren,” Hunk says jokingly. “We’ll give you cupcakes,” he ends with a singsong voice. “I know how much you love them!”

Flotor crosses his arms and refuses to answer. Nymuë finds his subsequent pout adorable and gives him a hug as she laughs into his shoulder. 

After a moment, she says as she throws a display screen up, “Actually, since he’s not cooperating, I have an extra copy.”

His pouting deepens with the ensuing howls of laughter at Prince Theren attempting to tame a cockatrix familiar.


	57. Prince Theren as drawn by Nymuë part 2




	58. Prince Artan as drawn by Nymuë

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I’m going to say is that the prompt for Inktober day 6 is #drooling.


	59. Faeble V

After Hunk and Nymuë returned with cupcakes and a plethora of refreshments, everyone sat back and enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere as they looked beyond the vaulted windows, and took in the serenity of the quiet Olkari landscape. 

“Dude, let us see your ranger again,” Lance says. “He was pretty hot.”

“Lance, did you just call Lotor hot?” Hunk laughs as they scroll back to his character. 

“Uh, yeah, I mean, come on. I don’t care what your orientation is. This guy with the eagle is sexy as fu...”

“Will you finish your cupcakes already, so we can save Aeolyn,” Flotor huffs to another round of laughter. Though he played up his jealousy, he was actually thoroughly enjoying himself. He didn’t really mind the way his character was depicted and was simply glad everyone was having a good time. He set his hand on Nymuë’s waist and pulled her closer to him, silently conveying his appreciation of her humour. As he returned her affectionate gaze, he couldn’t imagine wanting to spend his life with anyone else. 

 

As Aperture was consolidating their battle plans within the cave, there is a sudden shuffling noise behind them. Weapons were quickly unsheathed, swords and bows at the ready, but it is an old man who approaches and signals his peaceful intentions. 

“Niflheim, is that you?” Valayun asks incredulously. 

“Yes, my child,” he replies steadily. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had been banished long ago. It broke my heart when you had to leave.”

“I have hidden my presence here all these many ages, but I never left. I have been waiting for this day for what seems like an eternity. The dawn of our freedom is at hand, and evil will forever be vanquished.”

“Ok,” Pike interrupts, “does anyone want to fill the rest of us in about what the heck is going on?”

“Please have a seat, all of you,” the old man replies. “For I have a tale you must hear before you enter into the battle of your lives. I was the master record keeper for the kingdom of Lapham for hundreds of years...”

“Wait, who can live for hundreds of years?!” asks Pike.

“Pike, they’re sky elves. Elves live for hundreds of years,” Meklavar replies stolidly. 

“I safeguarded the ancient secrets passed on via generation after generation of meticulous book keeping to ensure our readiness for the arrival of the chosen. As you may have surmised, the Grand Matriarch is an evil being who has usurped the throne of Lapham by way of trickery and deceit. Our true queen was deposed long ago, I’m afraid, may she rest in peace.” Valayun gasped in horror. She had known that their queen seemed increasingly bizarre, brassy, and even caustic, but could not have imagined the depth of darkness that had seized their good country. 

“Her story begins long ago, when the world was still young, and magic was mostly yet unknown to its inhabitants. The Fae were the original keepers of spoken magic, their keen aptitude and attunement to its presence and power the precursors to unlocking its secrets. One in particular, Faiorse, became revered for her natural acclimation to wield this power. Her beauty, like her faculty, was utterly unrivalled, and she held the balance of the world in her hands. 

“She fell in love with a human, to the acrimony and condemnation of her contemporaries upon discovery of their affair. My dear boy,” he turns to Artan, “that was the beginning of your ancestry. You are descended from the first child of that union. They sought to strip her of her power, by turning her into a driad, but she was the only one in recorded history who was able to overturn that curse. She sought the secrets of dark magic to release her from the bondage of driadic entrapment, and although she succeeded, what befell her was a fate worse than death. She gained immortality as an undead being, forced to feed on the lifeblood of her descendants to regain any semblance of a mortal.

“Every thousand years, the Fae sequester sufficient means to empower one of her descendants with their own magic in a bid to defeat her once and for all. Every child that has ever fought her has won, at the cost of their lives. Yet, she beggars belief by reincarnating after her untimely demise. No one understands how she is able to do so. That is the grand mystery you must uncover before it is too late.”

Artan stands with a sudden crushing epiphany as he turns to Theren. “Mother must have known. She somehow knew that the Fae would target her and attempted to circumvent this by pretending to have an illicit union with your father. Then she sent her to live with you as his daughter. But the Fae found her, anyway.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” says Pike. “So you’re saying that Aeolyn is YOUR sister, and not Theren’s?!”

“Indeed I am.”

It is at this point that everyone looks over to Flotor, and then to Nymuë sleeping on his shoulder. 

“Oh man,” Lance says to Coran, “your old man was so boring he put her to sleep.”

Coran gives him a disapproving look.

“Should we stop playing?” Hunk asks.

“No, it is quite alright,” Flotor replies as he wraps his arm around her. “Let her rest. Her character is not currently in play. We can proceed,” he smiled as he contentedly continued to hold her.


	60. The Elder Queen’s true form as drawn by Lotor




	61. Faeble VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...perhaps mortals are not formed for fairy bliss?”  
> ― Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

Although Zep had been slow to warm up to him, and mostly everyone with the exception of Aeolyn and Froot, Theren noticed how fond the little dragonling seemed to be of Ryder. He watched him push his head into Ryder’s hand without hesitation and lean its weight into his body; he, in turn, responded by speaking gently to it and stroking it under its jowl. He certainly had a way with the little beast.

“Okay, Ryder, I need to know. How do you know how to speak draconic and how do you have such a varied royal guard? You come from a human kingdom, don’t you?” asks Pike.

“The Areteans are the dragonkeepers of old. The altruism we have with the dragons is a prehistoric spoken pact whereupon we guard their young when they leave to hunt, and in return, they offer us protection. Every child in the land is taught to speak the common tongue and draconic. As for the multicultural acceptance, it was a decree written long before I was born. All folk are welcome in our land, regardless of origin, so long as one abides by the laws and edicts set forth by our forebearers.”

“That explains why Zep seems to like you so much, Artan,” Valayun says with a smile. 

“So if Aeolyn grew up in Felociel, then, how does she know draconic?” asks Block.

“She can speak every language. It was granted to her with her fae magic, though she always held an aptitude for learning a new tongue,” Theren replies. 

“It is strange that you found him out in the wild,” Artan replies. “There is only one type of dragon that we have the pact with, thereby exempting us from nothing when we encounter another species of malice and murderous intent. And it is this species, the Eosin dragon. Even so, very few of our people are adept and learned in dragon handling. That Aeolyn could have tamed a wild youngling is still an extraordinary feat.”

“Aeo told me that he had been taken from his mother when he was a hatchling. She was the one who found him when we were fighting the Coranic dragon who had stolen him.”

Ryder thinks for a moment. “By his size and breadth of development, I would estimate he is about a decaphebe in age. I know of no missing hatchlings from that period. In fact, we have not lost any eggs or hatchlings in many centuries. It is a highly specialized task force that guards them, who are not susceptible to failure. The only one I am familiar with was the loss of an egg one thousand decaphebes ago. It had been taken during the great battle of Aretea.”

“Perhaps it is possible that Zep is a descendant of that stolen dragon,” Theren muses. “In any case, we must also discuss how to defeat this Elder Queen. I believe I have an idea, but I will require assistance.”

“YOU DO?!” cry most of his friends in unison.

“I believe her to be a Lich Queen, in which case merely defeating her current physical form is ultimately a lost cause. She will be able to reincarnate as her true soul resides not in her body, but in a separate phylactery. The soul is bound to this object with heavy enchantments and it is what must be destroyed before she can be permanently rent asunder. It will be guarded by phenomenally powerful magics, likely exceeding any of our raw ability to unlock.”

“Oh, when you put it that way, we might as well surrender,” grumbles Pike.

“Do you remember the clue the Coatl gave us, however?” Theren asks.

“Does it have anything to do with this stone she gave me?” Shiro asks.

“Yes, in fact, that stone holds the power of the moon. It possesses one quarter of the power needed to unlock the phylactery.”

“Theren, you’re a genius!” cries Meklavar. “So the other stones possess the powers of the sun, the water, and...” Mek gasps, “the earth! That’s my jewel! The jewel of Gitan is an earth stone!”

Valayun gasps as well as she pulls out her rune stone. “Mine holds the power of water, doesn’t it?! This is the third stone!!”

“But what about the fourth stone then? We don’t have it,” laments Block. 

Theren silently pulls out his necklace on which is seen a fiery amulet dancing with light. “This grants me the ability to wield fire as powerfully as I do. Valayun, do you know where the Grand Matriarch keeps the chrysalis chamber?”

She smiles gleefully. “You better believe I do.”


	62. Aeolyn as drawn by Lotor




	63. Faeble VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The day the power of love overrules the love of power, the world will know peace.”  
> — Mahatma Gandhi

Their contemplative reflection is interrupted by a resounding, thunderous voice. “Reveal yourselves, mortals. Your rank stench fills this land with filth. Come, meet your glorious doom,” it cackles with maleficience and malice. 

“Well, so much for the element of surprise,” Mek says with resignation. 

“Who talks like that?” Pike asks unimpressed. “So cheesy and cliché.”

Niflheim addresses Theren’s group. “The resistance has numerous underground tunnels with which to infiltrate the castle. Please follow me, as time is of the essence.”

“Mmm... Valayun, can we trust this guy? What if he’s a spy for the Lich Queen or something?” Meklavar asks doubtfully.

“He was my father’s advisor and closest friend. I consider him to be an uncle.”

“I don’t detect any enchantments on him either,” Block says. 

“Still seems too good to be true that he happened to bump into us here in a random cave.”

“My child, I assure you I have no ill intentions. I do understand your reluctance to believe me, given these dark times. I fought alongside your great grandmother, Megumian, in the battle of the four armies and she gave her life to save mine. The amulet she gave me is the most treasured possession I have. I now offer it to you as a gesture of goodwill.”

Meklavar was speechless for a time. “I... I can’t take that. It’s alright, I’m sorry for doubting you. She gave it to you, you should keep it.”

“No, you must take it. The jewel of Gitan is incomplete without it. The Grand Matriarch has been searching for them relentlessly, and almost succeeded in procuring the first two pieces through Dakon.”

“What? I thought it only had two sections!”

“No, child. There is a small divot inlaid behind the centrepiece.”

Meklavar takes out the two pieces of her jewel and turns over the second one. Niflheim presses a tiny peridot jewel into the centre, effectively assembling the triverdic stones. They suddenly appear to weightlessly rotate within one another, bound together by an intractable magnetism. The team gathered around to watch with amazement.

“She must have meant a lot to you. Thank you,” she replies ruefully.

“Yes, child. Now, we must make haste! This way!”

As they depart, Valayun leaves her Pegasus in Pike’s care, at Artan’s behest. The latter directs his own group, assiduously hammering out their plan of attack. Having studied dragons his entire life, he knew that the voice belonged to one of the very familiar Eosins. It was a very powerful adult, no less. 

“Zep,” Artan says as he crouches down to his level, “does that dragon matriarch sound familiar to you?”

“I don’t know,” the little one replies. “I can’t remember my mother.” 

“Our enemies are exceptionally powerful,” Artan begins as he stands. “Extreme caution must be used in all circumstances, and they must not be underestimated. Pike, you have a perilous task ahead of you. We must draw the four Nightmares away from the dragon with the Pegasus.”

“Why did you choose the Pegasus? Are they like rivals or something?”

“Nightmares used to be Pegasi who were hideously transformed into fiendish creatures by having their wings torturously shorn from their bodies. The wrath and vengence they feel consumes their very being, particularly toward elegant and beautiful reminders of their past lives.”

“That was good thinking, asking Valayun for her mount, then!”

“You will then lead them to the edge of the forest, where we will lay ambush.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard, then.”

“No, it is prudent to pay heed. Nightmares are capable of entering the ethereal realm and re-entering this realm at any point in space.”

“Wait, what? So you’re saying fighting them is like fighting Lotron?!” Lance stops the game. “Coran, am I allowed to use Voltron in this game?”

“Lance,” Pidge says exasperatedly, “why do you even need Voltron? YOU HAVE LOTOR, THE GUY WHO OPERATES LOTRON.” 

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“Well, if you do, you can just make another paladin,” says Shiro with a laugh.

“Lance,” Flotor says as he takes a moment to reposition himself, “of all of us, you have the highest dexterity and your thief’s reflexes make it possible to evade nearly any attack. It is why Artan chose you to be the bait.” Nymuë was still sleeping against him as he pulled her closer. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this content, filled with cupcakes, laughing with his friends, participating in an incredibly captivating story arc, and holding the woman he loved, albeit sleeping, against him. 

“What?! I’m the bait?!”

“Stop pussyfooting, Pike,” Hunk says to stifled chuckles. “Just shut up and ride the horse, will you?”

If there was anything Pike was good at, it was attracting attention. He whistled, taunted, and mocked the equine fiends, drawing their fiery ire as they raced after him and his maddeningly magnificent mount. No matter how they strove, strained and struck out, their efforts proved futile. Pike could sense their approach at every turn and eluded their attacks with relative ease. They screeched their fury as they galloped into the forest, meeting the end of Froot’s iron fist or Artan’s inerrant leywood arrows. As Froot’s massive and unexpectedly agile form rained down blow after blow, Artan danced through the trees, firing swiftly and surely from his simple Aretean recurve bow. They only incapacitated their targets, avoiding vital organs, allowing Pip to transport the lot of them to the ethereal plains where she granted the final blessing of death. 

As Theren’s team approached an underground bunker, they were greeted by an unanticipated and unwelcome guest: Valayun’s corrupted sister. 

“You are too late!” she shrieks with laughter. “Too late, you fools!”

“What do you mean?” Valayun cries, “you are horrible, why are you doing this?!”

“Your precious bard has already been infused with the powers of the Arch Fae; once she sings her song of death, she will die, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Go, go now!” Niflheim cries, “I will fight her here!”

With a sorrowful glance, Valayun leaves her uncle and presses on toward the gated entrance to the castle’s lower block. They part ways with Theren as he rips the amulet from his neck and gives it to Block. 

Theren rushes to the throne room to aid Aeolyn but is met with a terrifying sight. The Lich Queen is suspended in mid air, seized by unseen chains, unable to move or attack. Aeolyn has summoned her ultimate weapon, the Requiem of Reckoning. Stemming from dark magic long forgotten from bardic tradition and the memories of mortals, it grants indefatigable and indefeasible power at the cost of one’s life. As the transfixed Prince turns to look at his beloved, she is barely recognizable to him; the unearthly features of the Arch Fae have overtaken her body as her discordant symphony begins its insidious crescendo into an overture of eternal night. Despite his fervent cries, his voice could not reach her ears. 

The language of her song is ancient, but not unknown to Theren. It is old Elvish and is eerily reminiscent of a distant dream he can’t quite recall. He desperately searches his memory for any clue as to its familiarity. Helplessly watching her darkening, translucent features, the luminous glow enveloping her suddenly reminds him of the first song he had heard her sing under the light of the moon. As he reaches for her and holds her fast, he speaks in ancient Elvish, repeating those same words of love and healing that bring light to her broken and incomplete song of darkness. It is not enough, however, and as he continues to feel her slip away from him, he solves the final puzzle. High elves were descendants of the Fae, their symphonic language, the gatekeepers to spoken magic. He hadn’t succumbed to her magic because he too, possessed it. As he brings forth the concordant harmonies of the elvish language in combination with the ancient lyrics, the darkness recedes from her. 

All at once, Aeolyn collapses into him, any remnants of the Arch Fae fleeing from the fire that now fills her body. As the magic holding the Lich Queen is unwound and and released, Block, Shiro, Meklavar, and Valayun open the chrysalis chamber with the four keys. Inside, a blackened, broiling mass swirls violently within a gemstone. Shiro lays waste to it with his heavenly sword and the Lich Queen, in a final keening caterwaul of agony, crumbles into the dust from whence she came. 

It is over. Their arch enemy is vanquished and the fae enchantment on Aeolyn is forever tamed. Although her magic far exceeded his own, Theren subdued it with the most powerful spoken magic of all: love. The cycle of hatred was broken with the union of the descendants of the Fae and of the Elder.


	64. Final Fantasy Classics

“Wow, that was amazing!” Shiro exclaims as he sits back. “I’d be happy to do this again anytime!”

“So much fun! I would play another round if we hadn’t already been playing for so long!” Allura says happily. 

“It’s too bad someone slept through the whole thing,” Lance laughs. 

“Well, we did have a lot of cupcakes. Totally what I call a chow-coma!” Hunk chuckles. 

“Hey, whatever happened to the dragon?” Pidge asks.

“Oh, Zep found her when we were fighting the nightmares,” Ezor replies. “Turns out it was his mother so we didn’t have to fight it.”

“I wanted to fight it,” Zethrid grumbles. 

Flotor handed Nymuë over to Lotor because his arm was getting numb. He was still riveted by their epic love story, as he reached over to hold her hand. It was mostly his doing that she was so tired today, but it wasn’t entirely his fault her cat suit accentuated every curve on her. And the fact that it came with a collar... 

Someone smacks him from behind. “Hey man, lost in la la land again, I see. No wonder we had to rescue you from the quintessence field, daydreaming all the damn time.”

“One of these days, Ashok...” Flotor says to a round of laughter. 

“I’ll hold you to it. Make sure you come back, next time, got it?”

Flotor smiled warmly. He didn’t want to leave at all, if he was to be quite honest.


	65. What Actually Happened on Flotor’s Last Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Things are not always as they seem; the first appearance deceives many.”
> 
> -Alfred

The paladins were saddened to see Flotor leave but he reassured them that he would return with minimal delay. He would uphold his duty to the peoples of his universe and ensure their well-being, but he had stated his permanent home would be with them. 

He was not usually one to be caught off his guard, but Allura’s kiss took him completely by surprise. He couldn’t even extricate himself from the tangle of her arms without the risk of hurting her; the strength she possessed was extraordinary. When she finally released him, it took him a moment to shake off the shock and process what he needed to do. With a sympathetic sigh, he took her by the arm to a more private area outside of the hangar. Everyone watching was struck with a mild to moderate aversion; Lance and Shiro were already well aware who Seph actually loved, and winced as they watched it all unfold, glancing fleetingly at the hairpins Nymuë now wore all the time. 

“So how long do you think they’ll be gone?” asks Pidge.

“Couple hours?” Hunk replies, to which he receives a round of booing, gagging, and shoving. “What? Just kidding. Couple minutes, alright? Geeze, you guys.”

Nymuë, herself, felt particularly nauseated and exceptionally irked. Lotor had to hold her back from marching over there and ripping them apart. It is entirely possible that the rapidity with which events had recently unfolded, prevented her from dealing with the ire she held toward Allura; after all, it was Allura who hurled Lotor across the room, Allura who had said such spiteful, and hurtful things to him that precipitated his descent into madness, and Allura who nearly cost him his life. Quietly indignant, she had distanced herself from her since that incident. Now, it was all boiling over. She wanted to pry her off her fiancé and the father of her child. She struggled within his grasp so much Lotor chuckled quietly as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulders. 

“Allura, I... I am not sure how to say this...” Flotor starts as he leads her over to a more private space.

“It’s alright. If you are still in love with the other Allura...”

“Well, that is not exactly what I had intended to say.” He rubs the back of his neck, uncertain about how much he should disclose. “I have since relinquished that relationship and its accompanying sentiments to remnant memories of the past. I am deeply appreciative of everyone’s support to be able to do so.” He pauses for a bit as he looks at the ceiling to avoid the hopeful look that suddenly lightens Allura’s face. “But I must apologize to you, for I cannot reciprocate your feelings. I would greatly treasure a continued friendship with you, however.” He winced as he tried to assess the damage he had just caused. The crestfallen look on her face lasted for a few moments before it was replaced by suspicion and hope again. 

“You love her don’t you?” Allura crosses her arms and furrows her brows. “But she’s already in love with someone else.” She believes he is cornered now so he might as well open his eyes to see what’s right in front of him. When he doesn’t react with the resignation that she expects, her smugness gives way to confusion. In fact, not only was he unperturbed, but the smile that crosses his face is incomprehensible. 

“Once again, my deepest apologies, Allura. I do genuinely appreciate everything you have done for me and hope that we can continue to partner against injustice and uphold the delicate peace we have so fervently fought for.”

It is at that moment that Lotor walks by, carrying a squirming, struggling bundle over his shoulder. “Hey, I can walk, put me down!” Lotor laughs and sets her down as he looks at her affectionately. He had been taken aback by the anger she successfully concealed even from him. It was an interesting contrast from the first time when she lacked any indication of jealousy. 

Flotor takes his leave of Allura and follows the other two. She watches with utter incredulity as the quiznacking duflax whispers something to Nymuë and brazenly kisses her head. They were going to retrieve Lotor’s generals who would be on loan, to pilot Flotor’s ships, and assist him in intelligence gathering. Right before they reach the lounge where the three were waiting, Lotor pulls his counterpart into a hug. “That’s for protecting Nymuë when I was gone.” He then punches him in the gut, hurling him across the hall to Nymuë’s horrified gasp. “And that’s for taking advantage of her and making her cry. It took me a full varga to calm her down.” Flotor lays on the floor for a bit. “I guess I deserved that,” he wheezes.

A moment later, Pidge and Hunk come barrelling through the hallway, shouting at each other. 

“Oh, I am so going to beat your calibration speed. There’s no way I’m losing this time,” Hunk exclaims smugly.

“We’ll see about that! I totally won last time,” she yells as she picks up her pace and runs to put the finishing touches on the quintessence suits, now equipped with cloaking capabilities. 

Back in the hangar, Keith has just poked fun at Klance fan fictions with mock consternation, but then slaps Lance on the shoulder. “Very funny, man.”

Lance shoots a couple finger guns and says, “Hey man, just as long as you invite me to your wedding.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Acxa. Didn’t you propose to her on the balmera or something?”

“Uh, no! Just because she’s a Blade now, and just because we go on a lot of missions together, it doesn’t mean...”

“Whatever man, just invite me to the wedding,” Lance says as he waves off Keith’s protests and heads out of the hangar. 

“Can we just go back to hating each other?” he calls.

As Allura stands there frozen for several more shock-filled moments, Lance wanders by. He actually bumps into her, not expecting her to be standing there. 

“Oh, sorry, Allura, I thought you were, uh, talking to...”

“I was... ah, he turned me down.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, I know how that feels. But I know just the thing to make you feel better. Come with me,” he smiles brightly. “I’ll introduce you to chocolate ice cream.” Allura didn’t know milkshakes were made with ice cream and he wasn’t about to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final battle to take back earth in the main reality will happen in part 5! The epilogue, taking place sometime in the near future will happen in part 6. 
> 
> Thanks so much for all of the comments, and kudos! You guys kept me going when I was banging my head against the wall because of writer’s block and the ridiculously convoluted plot I had mired myself into.
> 
> For those joining for the first time, the next two parts might be a little out of order because I wrote the final chapters for parts 4,5, and 6 in an alternating order. Part 6 just finished and there’s one more outstanding for part 5. Sorry, I’m a jerk.


	66. Lapham Campaign Victory




End file.
